; 


Oklahoma  Baptist  University  Library 


Personal   library  of   Dr.   J.   W.   Gillon, 

pastor  of 
First  Baptist   Church,    Shawnee,   1926-1931 


- 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


••4 


MERCEDES 


MERCEDES, 


A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


PROPERTY 

OKLAHOMA  BAPTIST  UNIVERSITY 
LIBRARY 


BY  SARAH  HALE. 


LOUISVILLE,    KY. 

BAPTIST  BOOK  CONCERN. 

1895. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1895,  by 

SARAH  HALE, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


JZlectr'i/i/pe,tl  In/ 
ROBERT  RO  WELL, 

.    A'//. 


••. 
TO   MY   FATHER, 

WITH   LOVING   RECOLLECTIONS 

OF   MY   MOTHER, 

THIS   STORY   IS   AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED, 
BY   THE    AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


THE  recollection  of  my  own  ignorance  before  I  came  to 
Mexico,  of  its  social  and  religious  condition,  and  the 
astonishment  I  have  often  felt  since  at  the  incorrect  state- 
ments made  in  newspapers  published  in  the  United  States, 
have  induced  me  to  write  this  story.  I  have  attempted  to 
represent  the  every-day  life  of  the  people  as  I  have  seen  it 
during  a  residence  here  of  six  years. 

A  great  many  of  tlie  incidents  related  have  come  under  my 
own  observation;  as,  for  instance,  the  conversation  about  the 
painter,  Senor  Ramon  Sagredo,  the  courting  scene  in  which 
Teodoro's  parents  figure,  and  the  conversation  between  them 
in  the  street  a  year  afterward;  others  were  related  to  me  by 
friends,  so  that  I  know  them  to  be  true;  the  crimping  of  the 
Virgin's  hair  is  one  of  these.  I  have  described  journeys  and 
places  and  landscapes  and  public  events,  such  as  the  opening 
of  Congress  and  the  burning  of  Judas,  just  as  I  have  seen 
them  myself.  The  story  of  Dona  Benigna's  conversion  is 
told  just  as  she  herself  told  it  to  me;  the  same  is  true  of 
Dona  Susana's.  In  Mercedes'  conversion,  also,  ';I  tell  the 
tale  as  'twas  told  to  me."  All  the  language  used  by  Teodoro 
on  pages  306  and  307  is  faithfully  translated  from  conversa- 
tions which  took  place  between  myself  and  one  of  our  Mexi- 
can ministers  at  my  dining  table  not  long  ago,  when  he  was 
conducting  a  series  of  meetings  in  our  church.  In  fact.  I 
have  hesitated  to  mention  any  one  thing  as  the  report  of  an 
eyewitness  lest  I  might  seem  to  exclude  others,  for  really  the 
book  might  almost  be  said  to  be  made  up  of  true  incidents 
strung  on  a  slender  thread  of  a  story. 

~  After  the  manuscript  of  the  book  was  finished  I  learned 
<^j  some  additional  facts  about  the  Ladies'  Church  Society,  one 
N  of  which  I  wish  to  mention:  on  certain  days  in  the  week  they 


6  PREFACE. 

visit  the  poor  and  the  sick,  being  driven  to  their  houses  in 
their  carriages  if  possible;  if  the  carriages  cannot  go  to  the 
houses  by  reason  of  the  narrowness  or  unevenness  of  the 
alleys  in  which  the  poor  live,  they  are  driven  as  far  as  the 
vehicles  can  go,  then  walk  the  remainder  of  the  way.  They 
supply  them  -with  bedding,  clothing,  food,  and  medicines. 
Of  course  we  know  the  teachings  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  about  the  reward  for  such  "good  works";  neverthe- 
less I  could  not  help  heartily  echoing  the  sentiment  expressed 
by  one  of  our  Mexican  ministers  when  I  related  to  him  these 
facts:  "If  they  are  so  good  as  Catholics,  what  would  they 
not  be  if  they  knew  the  gospel!" 

Friends  of  the  United  States  who  are  sending  the  gospel 
to  Mexico,  your  labor  of  love  is  bestowed  on  an  intelligent, 
generous,  warm-hearted,  high-spirited,  liberty-loving  people. 

I  wish  to  express  my  gratitude  to  the  friends,  both  Mexi- 
can and  American,  who,  at  my  request,  have  kindly  read  the 
manuscript  of  this  story  and  given  me  their  opinion  of  it  as  a 
representation  of  life  in  Mexico. 

If  this  simple  story  should  inspire  any  of  the  people  of  my 
native  land  with  greater  zeal  in  the  work  of  giving  the  Word 
of  God  to  the  inhabitants  of  Mexico,  I  shall  have  my  reward. 

SARAH  HALE. 
GUADALAJARA,  MEXICO, 

November  27,  1894. 


MERCEDES, 

A    STORY   OF    MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  I. 
OUR  LADY  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

IT  was  an  afternoon  in  July,  about  seven  years  ago,  in  the 
town  of  Salta,  in  the  northern  part  of  Mexico.  The 
whole  country  wore  a  parched  and  thirsty  appearance,  for 
the  rains  had  been  delayed.  There  was  much  suffering 
among  the  poor  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  In  this  town 
there  was  not  so  much  as  in  most  other  places,  for  a  supply 
of  crystal  water  was  brought  from  the  mountains  now,  as  all 
the  year,  for  the  use  of  the  people,  and  to  irrigate  the  gar- 
dens and  orchards  in  the  town  and  the  country  around  it. 

A  sort  of  awing  mystery  always  seemed  to  me  to  hang 
around  the  sources  of  this  water,  these  "eyes  of  water,"  as 
the  people  call  them,  away  off  in  the  Sierra  Madre,  some- 
thing like  that  which,  for  the  ancients,  hung  over  the  springs 
of  the  Nile.  But  whether  it  came^  from  the  silent  store  houses 
of  the  earth,  from  a  river,  or  from  a  lake — "a  picture  of  silver 
in  a  frame  of  emerald"  nestled  in  the  bare,  rugged  mountain 
like  the  memory  of  mother  and  childhood  in  the  heart  of 
hardened  age — here  it  was,  the  rushing,  dancing,  laughing, 
life-giving  water.  Along  the  side  of  the  town  nearest  to  the 
mountains  it  ran,  in  the  channel  provided  for  it.  From  this, 
smaller  channels  were  opened  to  convey  the  water  to  the 
small  gardens  and  orchards  in  the  city  and  to  the  fields  be- 
yond. The  people  who  lived  in  the  unsightly  adobe  houses 
on  either  side  of  the  principal  stream  were  said  to  live  on  the 
Orilla  del  Agua  (Oreya  del  Awa),  the  Border  of  the  Water. 


8  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

But  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  these  eyes  of  water  did 
not  seem  to  be  affected  by  the  long  drought,  there  was  much 
sighing  for  rain  in  Salta.  The  vegetation  was  parched;  the 
figs,  grapes,  tunas,  peaches,  pears,  and  pomegranates  were 
not  so  abundant  as  in  former  years,  neither  were  they  so 
large  and  sweet.  The  low  shrubs  on  the  mountains,  their 
only  vegetation,  were  not  so  green  as  usual. 

So  deeply  was  felt  the  need  for  rain  in  all  parts  of  the 
Republic  that  the  Catholics  had,  through  one  of  the  daily 
papers  of  that  faith  published  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  besought 
their  Illustrious  Prelate,  the  Archbishop,  to  order  uthat 
the  prayers  of  the  faithful,  directed  by  His  priests,  should 
be  addressed  with  one  accord  to  the  Almighty  to  appease 
divine  justice  if  such  should  be  his  holy  will." 

'  'In  other  times,"  continues  the  writer,  "and  with  the  Chris- 
tian faith  which  characterizes  the  Mexican  people,  and  which 
fortunately  we  still  possess,  we  have  had  recourse  in  similar 
calamities  to  Our  Most  Holy  Mother,  the  Virgin  Mary,  in 
her  sanctuaries  of  Guadalupe  and  of  los  Remedies. 

"The  images  of  the  noble  Lady  are  in  her  sanctuaries 
waiting  to  hear  our  public  and  fervent  petitions." 

We  learn  from  the  same  paper  that  being  thus  urged  "the 
Illustrious  Senor  Archbishop  of  Mexico,  in  order  to  obtain 
from  heaven  a  remedy  for  the  necessities  that  were  afflicting 
in  so  great  a  degree  the  inhabitants  of  the  capital  and  of  the 
whole  nation  on  account  of  the  want  of  rain,  ordered  that  in 
the  Cathedral,  the  Colegiata,  'the  Profesa,  and  the  Paroquias  of 
that  city  a  three  days'  service  should  be  held.  The  first  day 
was  to  be  dedicated  to  the  sacred  heart  of  Jesus;  the  second, 
to  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe;  the  third,  to  the  Holy  Guardian 
Angel  of  the  Mexican  nation. 

*  'With  regard  to  the  foreign  parishes,  his  Eminence,  taking 
into  account  the  few  resources  at  their  command,  abstained 
from  ordering  this  three  days'  service,  but  he  desired  that 
the  Sefiores  Pastores,  together  with  their  congregations, 
should  do  what  they  well  could  to  implore  the  mercies  of 
God,  our  Lord." 


OUR  LADY  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Moved  by  this  request  of  the  Archbishop  the  people  of 
Salta,  the  Sunday  before  our  story  begins,  had  sought  to 
secure  the  intercession  of  the  Virgin  of  St.  John.  This  image 
belonged  to  a  wealthy  family  who  resided  in  the  town.  They 
owned  an  Hacienda,  that  is,  an  immense  farm  with  a  hand- 
some house  on  it,  about  three  miles  from  town.  In  the 
chapel  in  the  yard  of  this  house  the  Virgin  spent  the  greater 
part  of  the  year.  It  had  become  customary  in  times  of 
drouth  to  bring  her  in  and  place  her  in  the  principal  church 
of  the  town  that  prayers  for  rain  might  be  addressed  to  her. 

Accordingly  this  very  religious  family  had  sent  out  their 
elegant  carriage,  drawn  by  a  splendid  span  of  sorrel  horses, 
to  bring  in  the  image.  They  were  accompanied  by  many  of 
the  common  people,  some  on  shabby  horses,  and  hundreds  on 
foot.  A  fat,  dark-faced  priest,  clad  in  sacerdotal  robes, 
seated  himself  in  the  carriage  and  took  Our  Lady  in  his  lap. 
She,  or  it,  is  an  image  about  a  foot  high.  Her  dress  is  much 
adorned  with  gold  or  gilt,  probably  the  latter.  How  it  came 
to  be  believed  that  the  bringing  in  of  this  image  had  any  in- 
fluence in  securing  rain  I  am  not  informed.  I  suppose  that 
in  some  time  of  drouth  the  people  resorted  to  one  after 
another  of  their  "saints,"  and  in  turn  to  this  one;  rain  was 
given  soon  after,  so  they  concluded  that  it  was  through  her 
influence. 

I  do  not  know  either  why  she  is  called  the  Virgin  of  St. 
John;  but  it  is  probable  that  she  appeared  miraculously 
(through  the  assistance  of  the  Holy  Fathers)  in  some  place 
that  is  called  St.  John.  There  are  so  many  virgins  they 
must  be  distinguished  in  some  way.  In  Mexico  alone  there 
are  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe,  Our  Lady  of  Solitude,  Our  Lady 
of  Mercy,  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes,  and  a  multitude  of  others.  An 
educated  Catholic  would  explain  to  you  that  they  all  repre- 
sent the  same  person,  the  mother  of  our  Lord,  each  one  com- 
memorating some  phase  of  her  character  or^of  her  real  or 
traditional  life. 

It  would  be  gross  enough  idolatry  to  worship  the  mother 
of  the  Lord;  but  that  the  people  worship  the  images  them- 


10  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

selves,  just  as  pagans  in  oriental  countries  worship  their 
idols,  is  proved  by  the  fact  that,  though  they  all  represent 
the  same  person,  the  Virgin  Mary,  nevertheless  it  is  believed 
that  more  miracles  are  wrought  by  some  images  of  her  than 
by  others.  The  same  is  true  of  the  images  of  all  the  saints. 
The  people  will  say  frankly  that  they  worship  the  images 
unless  the  questions  that  are  put  to  them  on  the  subject 
remind  them  of  the  absurdity  of  such  a  practice. 

On  the  way  to  the  town  a  dozen  men,  dressed  in  grotesque 
costumes,  danced  in  front  of  the  carriage.  The  Spanish 
priests,  when  they  reached  this  country  three  centuries  ago, 
saw  before  them  the  task  of  changing  the  religion  of  a  whole 
people.  For  the  accomplishment  of  that  purpose  there  were 
armies  of  Spanish  soldiers  whose  cruelty  seems  incredible, 
and  the  '  'Holy  Inquisition"  with  all  the  instruments  of  torture 
that  Satan  himself  could  devise;  they  added  to  these  yet 
another  means,  a  more  merciful  one,  and  one  which  the 
"unchangeable  Church"  had  no  scruples  about  using:  they 
combined  Romanism  with  the  paganism  of  the  Indians,  and 
thus  the  war- dances  of  the  aborigines  became  a  part  of  the 
worship  of  the  Holy  Apostolic  Roman  Catholic  Church  in 
Mexico. 

In  the  suburbs  of  the  town  the  procession1  was  met  by 
other  hundreds  of  the  common  people,  with  now  and  then  a 
well-dressed  woman  among  them .  They  unhitched  the  horses 
from  the  carriage,  tied  two  long  ropes  to  the  axle,  and  as 
many  of  them  as  could  conveniently  seized  the  ropes  and 
drew  the  carriage  through  the  town  to  the  church.  There 
Our  Lady  was  deposited  with  all  due  solemnity. 

Three  days  had  passed  and  still  it  had  not  rained;  but 
these  good  Catholics  were  in  no  danger  of  losing  faith  in 
their  saint.  They  complacently  quoted  their  proverb,  "What 
God  does  not  will  the  saints  cannot  do,"  without  a  thought 
of  appealing  to^him  who  '  'sends  his  rain  on  the  evil  and  on 
the  good." 

*Nota. — Religious  processions  and,  in  short,  all  religious  ceremonies 
in  the  open  air  are  forbidden  by  the  law  in  Mexico,  but  in  many  towns 
they  are  still  tolerated. 


SALTA.  11 

CHAPTER  II. 
SALTA. 

THIS  town  is,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  northern  part  of 
Mexico.  If  the  curious  reader  should  desire  more  accu- 
rate information  about  its  situation  I  must  recommend  him, 
as  a  Spanish  writer  might  do,  to  consult  the  "moral  map" 
of  Mexico,  as  it  is  not  probable  he  will  find  it  on  any  other. 
But  he  can  find  a  number  of  others  that  will  answer  very 
well  to  the  description. 

Looking  down  the  street  in  one  of  these  small  towns, 
towns  of  about  twelve  thousand  inhabitants,  one  sees  two 
unbroken  lines  of  walls  plastered  and  whitewashed  or  painted 
yellow,  green  or  blue.  One  house  is  distinguished  from  an- 
other by  a  difference  of  a  foot  or  two  in  the  height  of  the 
walls  or  by  its  color.  Occasionally  are  seen  fantastically 
painted  houses  reminding  one  of  bright  spring  calicoes  and 
ginghams,  and  more  rarely  there  is  one  of  *a  rich,  handsome 
brown  color.  They  are  nearly  all  of  one  story.  The  dwell- 
ing-houses are  built  around  one  or  two  courts,  and  often 
have  gardens  at  the  back,  inclosed  by  a  wall  ten  or  twelve 
feet  in  height,  continued  from  the  wall  of  the  house. 

The  stables  are  at  the  back  of  the  second  court,  so  that 
the  horses  and  cows  are  always  said,  and  truthfully,  to  be  in 
the  house;  but  they  are  as  far  removed  from  the  family  as 
could  be  desired.  Around  the  second  court  are  the  kitchen 
and  the  rooms  for  servants.  There  are  no  front  yards;  what- 
ever of  flowers  and  shrubbery  they  have  are  in  the  first  court. 

Mexicans  are  not  prodigal  of  windows.  In  the  better  class 
of  houses  there  are  usually  two  large  windows  in  each  of  the 
two  front  rooms.  They  have  vertical  iron  or  wooden  bars 
over  them;  in  the  large  cities  these  are  often  substituted  by 
an  ornamental  iron  railing  about  three  feet  high  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  windows.  The  rooms  which  open  on  the  courts 


12  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

often  receive  all  their  light  from  the  folding  doors,  but  some- 
times each  large  room  has  a  window. 

Passing  along  the  street  one  sees  sometimes  elegantly 
draped  windows  and  handsomely  furnished  rooms,  and  hears 
the  soft,  rich  notes  of  a  piano,  and  sees  groups  of  well- 
dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  conversation;  or  he  sees 
through  the  great  front  doors  a  court  full  of  flowers  and 
vines,  the  greenness  contrasting  with  the  white  pillars  of 
the  corridor  which  runs  around  the  court. 

The  streets  are  favored  with  such  names  as  "The  Reform,'' 
"The  Holy  Spirit,"  "St.  Domingo,"  among  others  of  a  pa- 
triotic origin.  The  stores  of  various  kinds  bear  such  fanci- 
ful names  as  "The  Doves,"  "The  Pretty  Blue,"  "The 
Fountain,"  "Concord,"  "  The  High  Waves, ""  The  Future, " 
"The  City  of  London,"  "The  Trojan  Horse."  Sometimes 
the  suggestive  names  of  "The  Delights,"  " The  Current  of 
Life,"  "The  Little  Hell"  are  seen  over  saloon  doors. 

The  scenes  in  the  streets  are  curious  enough  to  a  foreigner. 
Here  come  some  immense  bundles  of  green  cornstalks  or  hay 
wriggling  and  bumping  along  the  street;  presently  one  dis- 
covers four  little  donkey  legs  under  each  and  he  knows  that 
the  patient  little  animal's  body  is  buried  in  the  bundle. 
Women  sit,  scorning  chairs  or  stools,  on  the  sidewalk  with 
their  fruits  spread  out  before  them;  a  little  farther  on  are 
children  gambling  with  pennies.  Here  go  rumbling  ox  wag- 
ons, each  with  two  thick  wooden  wheels  whose  diameter  is 
equal  to  the  height  of  the  driver.  These  drivers  wear  wide 
white  pantaloons  and  tall,  bell-crowned,  broad-brimmed  straw 
hats,  sandals,  and  often,  even  in  this  warm  weather,  red 
woolen  blankets.  Often  the  clothing  of  the  men  of  the  com- 
mon class  is  conspicuously  parti- colored.  Here  are  beggars 
crossing  themselves  on  the  forehea'd,  lips  and  breast,  accord- 
ing to  the  directions  of  the  Church,  and  importuning  the  pass- 
ers-by, in  the  most  studied  whines,  ' '  By  the  sacred  passion 
of  Christ,  and  for  the  love  of  God  and  His  Most  Holy  Mother, 
to  succor  them  with  a  blessed  charity."  Now  and  then  a 
handsome  carriage  dashes  by,  and  well-dressed  gentlemen 


SALTA.  13 

and  ladies,  the  latter  always  bareheaded,  pass  one  on  the 
sidewalk.  So  much  for  the  better  part  of  town. 

Often  the  houses  of  the  poor,  like  these  on  the  Orilla  del 
Agua,  for  instance,  have  no  windows  even  in  the  front  rooms. 
When  they  have  them  they  are  small  and  covered  with  un- 
painted  wooden  railings.  Many  of  the  houses  are  not  plas- 
tered on  the  outside,  but  instead  of  the  plaster  and  soiled 
whitewash,  display  the  bare  adobes.  But  not  for  this  ugli- 
ness does  impartial  Apollo  neglect  this  quarter  of  town; 
there  is  the  same  glare  of  white  sunlight  on  streets  and  walls. 

Salta  has  a  history  which  is  probably  not  very  unlike  that 
of  most  other  Mexican  towns.  The  story  goes  that  about 
three  hundred  years  ago  a  Spanish  captain,  accompanied  by 
some  Indian  families  arid  a  Jesuit  priest,  coming  from  Sal- 
tillo,  found  their  way  through  the  intervening  deserts  and 
wildernesses  to  this  place,  and  nattering  the  Indians  whom 
they  found  here  with  the  promise  of  protection  from  their 
enemies,  secured  their  co-operation  and  founded  this  town. 

Soon  after  this,  as  we  learn  from  the  "Notes  for  the 
History  of  Coahuila  and  Texas,"  written  by  a  Mexican  gen- 
tleman, who  was  probably  himself  a  Jesuit,  some  Jesuit 
priests,  prompted  by  zeal  '  *  for  the  extension  of  Our  Holy 
Mother  Church"  and  the  "greater  glory  of  God  and  His 
Most  Holy  Mother, "  came  up  from  Guadalajara,  and  estab- 
lished many  missions  in  these  states.  In  this  town  was  one 
of  their  most  important  missions.  He  speaks  with  enthusi- 
asm of  the  self-denial  and  holiness  of  these  ' '  eminent  gen- 
tlemen." 

He  says :  '  'The  early  religious  teachers,  possessed  of  the  most 
ardent  faith,  and  courage  which  amounted  to  heroism,  crossed 
unknown  deserts  and  immense  forests,  leaning  on  rough 
staffs  which  they  improvised  from  shrubs,  or  the  branches 
of  trees,  barefooted  and  covered  with  coarse  sackcloth;  rest- 
ing in  their  pilgrimages,  now  in  the  caves  of  the  forests,  now 
in  ravines  or  swamps,  reclining  sometimes  their  fatigued 
heads  on  the  hard  rocks.  The  gentleness  and  resignation  of 
those  eminent  gentlemen,  in  facing  all  kinds  of  dangers,  suf- 


14  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

ferings  and  hardships,  overcame  the  ferocious  instincts  of 
the  savages.  Men  clothed  -with  so  many  virtues,  without 
fondness  for  riches  or  the  luxuries  of  life,  filled  the  barbari- 
ans with  astonishment  and  admiration;  they  drew  near  the 
priest  with  respect  and  veneration.  Not  understanding  at 
first  the  dialect  of  the  Indians,  they  spoke  to  them  by  means, 
of  signs,  showing  them  the  crucifix  and  the  heavens,  and  in- 
dicating to  them  that  their  mission  was  one  of  peace  and 
charity.  When  they  had  succeeded  in  acquiring  some  knowl- 
edge of  the  native  language,  they  began  by  making  them 
understand  the  existence  of  an  infinite  Being,  the  supreme 
Author  of  the  creation,  and  also  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 
They  preached  to  them  against  their  superstitions,  their  wan- 
dering life,  the  shedding  of  human  blood,  and  their  immoral 
customs.  The  religious  teachers  who  came  to  Coahuila  and 
Texas  treated  the  aborigines  with  a  tenderness  truly  paternal, 
defending  them  from  the  molestations  and  oppressions  of 
their  conquerors." 

So  well  did  these  savages  ' '  advance  in  the  knowledge  of 
the  catechism "  that  it  sometimes  happened  that  ''within  a 
few  days  the  priests  had  as  many  as  five  hundred  Christians 
in  their  company. "  They  received  the  Holy  Father  with  em- 
braces and  kisses  and  hung  on  his  neck;  they  sacrificed  their 
lives  to  defend  him — that  is,  if  we  are  to  take  this  historian's 
word  for  the  statement. 

I  take  pleasure  in  laying  before  you  this  description  of  the 
character  and  doings  of  these  "illustrious  gentlemen."  The 
Lord  forbid  that  I  should  do  them  an  injustice;  judging  from 
their  history  in  all  nations  they  have  enough  to  answer  for 
before  God  and  man  if  the  truth  is  told  in  its  mildest  form. 

Here  in  Mexico  they  taught  the  doctrines  of  their  order, 
just  as  they  teach  them  everywhere  they  are  tolerated:  That 
it  is  right  to  steal,  to  lie,  to  murder,  to  commit  any  crime . 
whatsoever  if  only  the  interests  of  the  Church  are  to  be 
served  by  it;  they  introduced  the  inquisition;  they  subverted 
the  liberties  of  the  people;  they  established  monasteries  and 
convents  all  over  the  land;  yea  they  went  out  like  the  very 
spirits  of  the  devil  to  deceive  the  nation. 


SALT  A.  15 

When  Mexico  awoke  to  the  terrible  state  of  things  she  in- 
vestigated their  deeds  and  their  influence,  and  her  Congress, 
the  Roman  Catholic  Congress  of  a  Roman  Catholic  nation, 
you  will  remember,  for  the  purity  of  the  people  and  the  pro- 
tection of  the  family,  abolished  monasteries  and  convents 
and  banished  their  founders  from  the  realm. 

"Why,"  said  to  me  one  day  a  gentleman  who  had  lived 
here  a  good  many  years,  *  *  the  passages  run  like  a  cobweb 
under  this  town.  Formerly  there  were  openings  to  the  top 
of  the  ground  for  ventilation;  around  these  openings  were 
little  chimneys.  But  since  the  passages  are  no  longer  used 
these  have  been  thrown  down  and  the  holes  are  closed  up.  I 
went  down  into  a  passage  one  day.  They  are  only  wide 
enough  for  one  man  to  walk  in  them,  but  every  few  yards 
there  is  a  niche  large  enough  for  a  man  to  stand  in,  so  that 
if  two  of  the  Fathers  met  they  could  pass.  They  are  full  of 
human  bones  now. " 

'•Bones! "  I  exclaimed,    "Whose  bones? " 

"Oh!  bones  of  Indians,"  so  accustomed  to  the  horrible 
thoughts  he  was  suggesting  that  they  made  little  impression 
on  him.  "You  see  if  they  did  not  believe  what  the  Holy 
Fathers  taught  them  they  just  murdered  them  and  put  them 
down  there."  One  of  these  passages  runs  under  the  room 
adjoining  the  one  in  which  I  write  this  afternoon. 

We  read  in  the  history  which  I  have  mentioned  that  the 
"Jesuit  College"  in  this  town  "acquired  rich  possessions." 
It  is  a  way  they  have,  these  Roman  Catholic  institutions! 
Notwithstanding  the  sublime  meekness,  resignation  and  self- 
denial  of  their  founders,  notwithstanding,  as  in  this  case,  the 
half-clothed  and  unhoused  savages  by  whom  they  were  sur- 
rounded, they  seldom  or  never  failed  to'become  very  rich  in 
a  short  time. 

This  monastery,  the  College,  as  it  is  called,  was  confis- 
cated to  the  state  with  all  the  other  church  property  when 
the  monasteries  and  convents  were  abolished.  When  I  first 
visited  it  it  was  used  as  a  tenement-house.  On  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  hall  as  we  entered  was  an  arched  recess 


16      i  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

large  enough  for  three  men  to  stand  in  it.  It  had  recently 
been  discovered  in  the  smoothly-plastered  and  whitewashed 
wall.  It  was  opened  and  the  bones  were  taken  out.  A  sim- 
ilar recess  has  been  discovered  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall; 
they  had  taken  out  the  bricks,  revealing  the  arch,  but  it  still 
held  its  secret.  How  many  such  secrets  does  the  house  hold! 
We  went  to  the  door  of  the  underground  chambers  from 
which  the  passages  start  which  run  under  all  the  town,  but 
it  was  locked.  There  were  a  great  many  bones  in  them,  they 
told  me.  Even  on  the  surface  of  the  ground  there  were 
bones  everywhere  in  the  courts  of  that  awful  house. 

Whatever  mistakes  may  be  made  as  to  the  history  of  this 
monastery,  the  Jesuit  Fathers  who  occupied  it  stand  con- 
demned in  the  court  of  posterity.  People  went  to  the  Col- 
lege to  confess  and  were  never  seen  nor  heard  of  again. 
Wild,  fearful  stories  of  death  by  fire  and  hanging  and  starva- 
tion are  commonly  told  and  believed.  O  these  holy  Catholic 
priests ! 


AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  17 

CHAPTER  III. 
AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD. 

IT  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  that  July  day,  as 
well  as  one  could  judge  by  the  clock  on  the  Jesuit  College, 
which,  however,  was  not  very  reliable  since,  as  the  people 
declared,  it  "ran  with  the  wind."  The  siesta  (an  afternoon 
nap)  was  over  and  the  people  were  again  passing  to  and  fro 
in  the  streets.  From  one  of  the  houses  on  the  Orilla  del 
Agua  a  woman  and  a  girl  came  out,  and  drawing  their  faded 
blue  cotton  scarfs  closely  over  their  heads  and  shoulders, 
went  off  down  the  street. 

The  former  wore  a  scanty,  faded  calico  dress  and  very 
shabby  shoes;  the  latter  a  factory  dress,  also  faded  and 
scanty  and  much  worn,  and  shoes  that  rivaled  the  woman's 
in  shabbiness.  Reaching  the  shade  they  threw  back  their 
scarfs  from  their  heads.  The  features,  complexion  and 
straight  black  hair  of  the  woman  marked  her  as  a  pure  In- 
dian. She  was  deeply  scarred  with  smallpox,  and  one  of  her 
eyes  had  been  put  out  by  that  dreadful  disease.  Her  hair 
was  arranged  in  two  short,  scanty  braids  which  were  tied 
together  at  the  ends.  Her  face  wore  a  complaining,  ill- 
natured  expression  that  was  evidently  habitual  to  it. 

The  girl's  features  were  more  European  in  their  type,  in- 
dicating the  presence  of  some  Spanish  blood;  it  had  come  to 
her  from  her  mother's  side  of  the  house.  Her  complexion 
was  lighter  than  that  of  the  woman;  her  hair  was  straight, 
black  and  abundant;  she  wore  it  parted  in  the  middle,  combed 
smoothly  back  and  arranged  in  two  long  braids  which  hung 
down  her  back.  Her  mouth  was  somewhat  large  and  her 
teeth  white  and  regular.  Her  eyes  were  large,  dark  and 
bright,  with  an  expression  which  indicated  intelligence  and 
vivacity;  but  sometimes  they  looked  up  at  one  with  the  hope- 
less, unexpressed  appeal  of  a  dumb  animal.  She  was  not 


18  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

pretty  nor  handsome;  yet  a  close  observer  would  probably 
reflect  that  ' '  some  of  these  common  people  might  amount  to 
something  if  they  only  had  a  chance." 

Her  name  was  Mercedes  Gonzales  y  Robledo.  But  you 
are  not  to  suppose  from  this  imposing  array  of  names  that 
this  girl  in  the  faded  cotton  dress  was  a  descendant  of  a  no- 
ble family,  a  princess  in  disguise,  as  it  were.  Mercedes  was 
the  name  her  parents  gave  her;  it  meant  "mercies;"  but  it 
was  bestowed  on  her  with  no  thought  of  its  sweet,  quaint, 
suggestive  meaning,  but  merely  because  it  was  a  common 
and  convenient  name.  Gonzales  was  the  name  of  her  father, 
and  Robledo  was  her  mother's  maiden  name. 

For  example,  my  dear  Miss  Mary,  your  father  is  Mr. 
Jones,  and  your  mother  was  before  her  marriage,  Miss 
Smith;  then  if  you  lived  in  a  Spanish -speaking  country  you 
would  be  "Miss  Mary  Jones  and  Smith,"  or  the  Senorita 
(Sanyoreta)  Maria  Jones  y  Smith.  Then  if  you  should  marry 
a  Mr.  Tompson,  you  would  drop  your  mother's  name  but  re- 
tain your  father's,  so  that  you  would  be  "the  Sefiora  (San- 
yora)  Maria  Jones  de  (of)  Tompson."  You  would  very  rarely 
be  called  by  your  husband's  name;  only  a  dignified  acquaint- 
ance would  allude  to  you  as  "the  Senora  de  Tompson." 
"Give  up  my  father's  name  for  a  husband's !  Never!"  ex- 
claimed a  Mexican  young  lady,  looking  up  at  me  with  her 
great  brown  eyes  full  of  astonishment. 

Titles  are  much  less  used  in  Spanish-speaking  countries 
than  in  the  United  States.  You  would  not  be  Miss  Jones  be- 
fore your  marriage,  neither  would  you  be  Mrs.  Tompson  nor 
the  Sefiora  Jones  de  Tompson  after  your  marriage  except  in 
writing  and  in  the  conversation  of  mere  acquaintances;  from 
your  cradle  to  your  grave  all  your  friends,  including  gentle- 
men and  tiny  children  would  call  you,  notwithstanding  your 
connection  with  Mr.  Tompson — just  Mary  Jones. 

If  Mr.  Tompson  should  die  before  you,  you  would  drop  his 
name  entirely  except  in  legal  documents  and  other  papers  of 
importance,  and  for  purposes  of  explanation,  when  you  would 
be  mentioned  as  ' '  Mary  Jones,  widow  of  Don  Tomas  Tomp- 


AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  19 

son."  Your  servants  would  call  you  "Dofia  (Donya)  Maria," 
or  "the  Senora."  You,  in  turn  would  give  the  title,  Dofia, 
to  an  elderly  serving  woman  whom  you  wished  to  treat  with 
respect.  The  titles  Don  and  Dona  are  used  only  before  given 
names;  they  do  not,  at  present,  as  they  did  formerly  in  Spain, 
indicate  high  rank. 

Your  father,  who  in  the  United  States  is  known  as  Mr. 
John  Jones  would  be,  supposing  that  his  mother's  maiden 
name  was  Brown,  Senor  Juan  Jones  y  Brown;  but  for  con- 
venience he  would  generally  be  called  Senor  Jones,  or  Don 
Juan. 

The  name  of  the  woman  was  Maria  de  los  Angeles  (Mary 
of  the  Angels)  de  Guerrero  de  Urriegas.  The  de  preceding 
her  maiden  name  seems  to  be  more  a  matter  of  euphony  than 
anything  else.  The  baptismal  name,  "Maria  de  los  An- 
geles, "  was  in  its  origin  an  overflow  of  religious  feeling,  after 
the  Catholic  fashion. 

In  Mexico  among  the  most  common  baptismal  names  are 
Jesus,  Trinidad  (Trinity),  Maria  de  Jesus,  Alta  Gracia  (High 
Grace),  Jose-Maria  (Joseph- Mary). 

As  they  went  along  this  favorite  of  the  angels  began  to* 
talk  to  the  girl  in  her  usual  fault-finding  tone: 

"Come  along!  Why  don't  you  walk  faster?  We  shan't 
get  there  before  dark.  I  reckon  you  want  to  pretend  that 
you  are  tired  from  that  walk  on  Sunday.  That  was  nothing 
for  a  girl  of  fourteen.  I  am  thirty  years  older  than  that,  and 
I  didn't  mind  it. " 

Mercedes  thought  that  she  was  a  great  deal  stronger,  too, 
and  that  she  had  not  worked  so  hard  since,  but  she  said 
nothing,  for  she  had  learned  by  long  experience  that  such 
replies  as  she  could  make  did  no  good.  Maria  de  los  An- 
geles was  not  the  only  woman  who  ever  forgot  or  wilfully 
disregarded  the  fact  that  people  are  not  necessarily  strong 
because  they  are  young. 

"O,  you  are  the  very  skin  of  Judas! "  she  went  on  growing 
bitterer.  "You  don't  care  anything  for  religion,  nor  for 
anything  good.  Think  of  a  girl  of  your  age  who  has  never 


20  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

confessed!  You  will  never  see  purgatory!  And  your  father 
upholds  you  in  all  this  wickedness;  he'll  get  his  reward. 
How  do  you  suppose  I  feel  to  think  you  didn't  want  to  go 
with  me  to  the  chapel  to  pray  for  my  poor  Mbrdicai?  "  and 
her  voice  died  away  in  a  whimper. 

"I  didn't  say  anything  about  not  wanting  to  go,  aunt," 
replied  Mercedes,  trying  very  hard  to  avoid  a  sullen  tone. 

"But  I  know  you  didn't.  You  never  want  to  do  anything 
that  is  right.  You  only  want  to  devour  those  worthless 
books  your  father  allows  you  to  read.  The  Fathers  say  it  is 
best  for  such  as  you  not  to  know  how  to  read,  and  I  believe 
it." 

" Of  course  you  do  since  the  priests  say  it,"  thought  the 
girl,  trying  to  repress  a  smile,  in  which,  however,  there  was 
more  of  bitterness  than  of  merriment  These  taunting  allu- 
sions to  her  books,  accompanied,  as  they  often  were,  by  the 
threat  to  burn  them,  were  the  hardest  to  bear  of-  all  the  un- 
kind reproaches  of  her  aunt.  The  books  were  Don  Quixote, 
the  History  of  Mexico,  and  a  Missal.  These  were  the  only 
books  she  had  ever  had  opportunity  to  read  except  Father 
Ripalda's  Catechism.  The  humorous  and  the  poetical  pass- 
ages in  Don  Quixote  were  always  a  new  delight  to  her;  and 
its  fair  ladies  and  gallant  gentlemen  were  to  her  as  familiar 
friends.  Her  reading  of  the  history  of  her  country  had  de- 
veloped in  her  the  in  tensest  patriotism;  it  had  prepared  her 
to  act  the  part  of  Joan  of  Arc  if  the  necessities  of  her  native 
land  should  ever  call  for  such  a  heroine. 

From  these  books  she  had  learned  her  letters,  with  a  little, 
a  very  little  assistance  from  her  father.  Some  children  learn 
the  alphabet  from  the  Bible,  standing  by  a  mother's  knee 
and  feeling  the  caressing  touch  of  a  mother's  hand  on  their 
heads,  and  seeing  the  mother-love  in  the  face  above  them, 
and  the  saint's  anxiety  that  they  may  gain  the  true  wisdom,— 
learn  them  beginning  over  there  where  the  sweet,  wonderful 
story  begins:  "Now  when  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem  of 
Judea,  in  the  days  of  Herod  the  king;"  and  it  is  not  strange 
that  in  the  minds  of  such,  through  all  the  hot  and  dusty  and 


AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  21 

•weary  days  of  life-travel,  that  story,  intertwined  with  the 
weird  fancies  and  indistinct  recollections  of  childhood,  rings 
now  near  now  far  off,  sweeter  than  any  anthem,  of  angels, 
sweeter  even  than  the  lullaby  of  a  mother. 

This  girl  had  no  such  recollections.  If  her  mother  had 
lived  she  would  have  taught  her  nothing  of  the  Bible,  of 
course,  for  she  was  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  hence,  knew 
nothing  of  it.  But  she  had  died  when  her  daughter  was  only 
four  or  five  years  old.  Mercedes  always,  clung  to  the  belief 
that  she  remembered  her.  Some  homely,  loving  face  had 
bent  over  her  in  that  dim,  early  time,  some  voice  had  spoken 
tenderly  to  her;  the  face  and  voice  must  have  been  her 
mother's. 

Since  that  time  she  had  known  nothing  of  tenderness.  Her 
home  had  been  with  her  father's  step- sister,  Maria  de  los 
Angeles.  In  her  early  childhood,  when  she  was  permitted 
to  put  down  the  heavy  baby  she  must  bring  water,  carrying 
it  in  a  heavy  jar  on  her  head.  As  she  grew  older  nearly  all 
the  work  of  the  household  fell  on  her;  the  cooking  of  the 
frejoles  (dried  beans),  the  grinding  of  the  corn  for  tortillas, 
the  washing  of  the  clothing  of  the  family  in  the  stream  I 
have  mentioned. 

Notwithstanding  all  her  efforts  to  please  her  elders,  she 
could  not'  remember  ever  having  received  a  word  of  com- 
mendation from  them.  It  probably  seemed  to  them  that  it 
would  make  her  indolent  or  presumptuous  to  be  praised. 
Her  aunt  was  not  wilfully  unkind,  but  she  was  a  coarse,  stu- 
pid, indolent  woman,  and  she  was  placed  in  a  position  which 
would  be  dangerous  for  many  people  with  better  principles 
than  her  own — with  almost  absolute  power  over  a  helpless 
fellow-creature  whom  she  did  not  love  and  could  not  under- 
stand. The  girl's  incomprehensible  taste  for  reading  and 
her  lack  of  devotion  for  the  Church  made  her  aunt  half  be- 
lieve  sometimes,  in  the  depths  of  her  superstitious  soul,  that 
she  must  be  bewitched.  Her  father  treated  her  with  com- 
parative  kindness.  She  knew  it  was  through  fear  of  him 
that  her  aunt  dared  not  destroy  the  books.  Once  he  said  to 


PROPERTY 


22  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

her  suddenly:  "  You  look  like  your  mother,  child,"  and  then 
turned  away  as  if  he  were  ashamed  of  betraying  so  much 
emotion.  Another  time  he  noticed  her  with  the  missal  in  her 
hand  and  he  said,  "Take  good  care  of  it;  it  was  your  moth- 
er's.'' These  two  sayings  of  her  father's  she  cherished,  going 
over  them  often  as  she  lay  on  her  pallet  while  the  various 
other  occupants  of  the  room  were  snoring.  She  generally 
concluded  by  saying  to  herself,  "I  believe  he  does  love  me! " 
And  in  return  for  this,  having  no  one  else  to  love,  she  loved 
him  with  an  almost  worshipping  devotion;  but  she  dared  not 
express  it.  She  saw  other  parents  of  her  own  class  caress 
their  children,  plan  for  them  and  try  to  educate  them,  and 
she  wondered  often  what  were  the  feelings  of  such  children. 
She  was  very  different  from  them,  her  aunt  said,  and  Mer- 
cedes believed  it  because  her  aunt  said  it,  and  because  the 
circumstances  seemed  to  prove  it. 

The  girls  of  her  own  age  sometimes  invited  her  to  go  with 
them  to  the  plaza  (small  park)  to  promenade  and  listen  to  the 
music  of  the  band  on  the  evenings  of  national  and  church 
celebrations.  But  though  she  longed  with  all  the  ardor  of 
youth  to  go,  she  seldom  went.  She  had  no  holiday  attire  as 
they  had;  they  would  be  ashamed  of  her. 

She  felt  this  difference  of  dress  between  herself  and  others 
with  an  inexpressible  shrinking.  She  often  wondered  if  she 
would  look  as  other  girls -did  if  she  were  dressed  as  they,  in 
dainty,  stiffly  starched  print  dresses  and  black  shawls.  Her 
imagination  even  soared  higher  than  that,  and  she  dared  to 
fancy  herself  clad  in  the  lovely,  soft  garments  and  silken 
scarfs  in  which  she  had  seen  the  daughters  of  the  rich,  talk- 
ing and  laughing  in  low  musical  voices  that  sounded  like  the 
chirping  of  birds,  as  they  passed  in  elegant  carriages.  And 
she  wondered  vaguely  if  she  were  so  clad  if  there  would  still 
be  about  her  any  mark  or  deformity  of  face  or  figure  that 
would  publish  the  fact  that  she  was  a  peculiar  creature,  sep- 
arated from  all  the  common  sympathies  of  humanity. 

Thus  separated  by  unkindness  or  carelessness  from  those 
to  whom  she  might  naturally  have  looked  for  affection,  and 


AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  23 

from  others  by  her  own  sensitiveness,  she  was  in  danger  of 
becoming  morbid.  But  fortunately  there  was  in  her  compo- 
sition some  salt  which  preserved  her  from  that.  She  was 
naturally  of  a  gay  disposition,  and  she  had  a  keen  sense  of 
humor.  No  less  keen  was  her  appreciation  of  all  the  varied 
forms  of  nature  about  her;  the  peaceful  murmur  of  the  water, 
the  songs  of  the  birds,  the  beauty  of  the  flowers,  the  pictur- 
esqueness  of  the  rugged  mountains,  the  rosy  or  golden  or 
violet  air  which  draped  them  of  mornings  and  evenings,  the 
clouds  of  sunrise  and  sunset.  But  of  all  her  pleasures  that 
half -stolen  one  of  reading  Don  Quixote  was  the  greatest. 

By  this  time  they  had  left  behind  them  the  narrow,  dirty 
streets  and  unsightly  houses  of  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and 
were  ascending  the  hill.  These  mountains  among  which  the 
town  is  nestled  are  outlying  ranges  of  the  Sierra  Madre  (th< 
Mother  Range),  a  continuation  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Their  harsh  outlines  are  softened  by  no  vegetation  except  a 
few  dwarfed  shrubs.  The  great  porous  rocks  among  which 
their  path  lay  stood  up  in  all  their  bare  picturesqueness. 

They  reached  the  top  of  this  hill  and  walked  perhaps  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  on  its  almost  level  summit  to  a  small,  cir- 
cular and  very  steep  hill  which  arose  abruptly  from  this  ele- 
vated plane.  On  the  top  of  this  latter  hill  lay  an  immense 
circular  rock,  extending  out  on  all  sides  beyond  the  apex  of 
the  hill.  Perched  on  this  rock  was  one  of  the  "high  places" 
of  the  Roman  Church,  a  tiny  white  chapel.  It  could  be  seen 
for  miles  around,  its  outlines  standing  out  sharply  against 
the  blue  sky. 

Slowly  and  laboriously  they  ascended  the  hill,  panting  and 
stopping  now  and  then  to  rest.  Sometimes  Mercedes  turned 
her  head  for  a  moment  when  her  aunt  was  not  looking  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  town  nestled  among  the  green  trees, 
of  the  valley  and  the  encircling  mountains. 

When  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  rock  they  passed  around 
to  the  back  of  it  and  ascended  the  steps  which  had  been 
made  through  it  to  the  top.  This  rock,  and,  in  fact,  all  these 
rocks  and  hills  would  be  a  worthy  study  for  a  geologist. 


24  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

The  last  four  or  five  steps  Maria  de  los  Angeles  ascended 
on  her  knees;  in  the  same  manner  she  crossed  the  space  be- 
tween the  top  of  the  stairway  and  the  door  of  the  chapel, 
Mercedes  spreading  on  the  rock  in  front  of  her  the  two  nar- 
row pieces  of  coarse  matting  which  she  had  brought  along 
for  that  purpose.  With  difficulty  she  entered  the  chapel  and 
crawled  to  a  large  wooden  cross  which  stood  in  the  floor. 
She  remained  kneeling  in  front  of  it  weeping  and  counting 
her  beads  and  whispering  her  prayers. 

The  girl  made  the  circuit  of  the  tiny  room  kneeling  me- 
chanically for  a  moment  in  front  of  the  cross  and  the  image 
of  the  Virgin,  making  the  signs  of  the  cross  on  forehead,  lips 
and  breast.  She  glanced  as  she  passed  at  the  coarse  and 
ludicrous  paintings  given  by  those  who  had  been  healed  of 
various  infirmities  through  the  virtue  which  dwelt  in  the 
Holy  Wood,  the  cross  before  which  her  aunt  knelt. 

Most  of  these  pictures  represent  the  devotees  crawling  up 
the  hill  toward  the  chapel  with  lighted  candles  in  their  hands; 
in  some  of  them  the  devotee  is  kneeling  before  the  cross. 
One  of  the  inscriptions  reads  thus : 

"Higinio  Garcia  having  suffered  nine  months  from  a  dis- 
ease perhaps  unknown  without  having  a  moment  of  rest  nei- 
ther by  day  nor  by  night  with  sincerity  of  heart  implored 
the  holy  Wood  for  mercy  which  was  found  for  at  the  present 
if  he  is  not  well  he  is  very  much  relieved  and  he  dedicates 
this  to  it  (the  Holy  Wood)  for  the  justification  of  so  great  a 
myracle." 

Another:  ''Jose-Maria  Gerarda  Gomes,  i  was  seized  by  a 
disease  i  imboqued  the  holy  wood  and  i  was  healed  and  for 
the  greater  beneration  we  dedicate  this.  Zenobio  Zequndino. " 

Another:  "the  nintH  day  of  the  month  of  August  of  1888  a 
horse  thru  the  girl  Benita  Rodriguez  breaking  one  of  her 
arms.  I  the  mother  of  this  girl  full  of  grief  imboqued  the 
holy  wood  asking  for  the  relief  of  mi  daughter  and  so  it  was 
in  seven  months  she  was  well  and  sound  and  this  made  me 
with  all  my  heart  offur  the  present  picture.  Gabriela  Rod- 
rigues. " 


AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  25 

The  devotee  before  the  cross  had  come  to  ask  a  similar 
mercy.  Her  son,  Mordicai,  had  fallen  from  the  scaffolding 
of  a  building,  and  though  like  any  well  instructed  son  of  a 
Catholic  mother  he  had  cried  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  for  help 
she  was  not  so  propitious  as  in  another  case  of  the  kind  of 
which  I  have  heard.  In  that,  in  answer  to  the  man's  cry  of 
distress  the  Virgin  held  him  in  mid  air  till  his  companions 
brought  a  ladder  on  which  he  descended.  This  time  perhaps 
the  goddess  was  asleep  or  occupied  with  other  matters;  cer- 
tain it  is  that  Mordicai  came  down  to  the  ground  in  a  way 
which  demonstrated  admirably  the  geometrical  principle  that 
"a  straight  line  is  the  shortest  distance  between  two  points;" 
and  the  result  was  a  broken  leg. 

This  cross  has  a  history.  The  story  goes  that  the  priests 
when  they  came  to  establish  a  mission  here,  celebrated  the 
first  mass  on  this  rock.  Some  time  after  that  the  Holy  Fa- 
thers displayed  to  the  people  one  morning  a  wooden  cross 
about  four  feet  in  height  which,  they  said,  had  been  brought 
down  from  heaven  the  night  before  and  placed  on  this  rock. 
It  was  found  to  possess  miraculous  properties.  The  original 
cross  decayed  in  a  few  years,  but  one  night  it  disappeared 
miraculously  and  a  new  cross,  also  from  heaven,  took  its 
place.  This  has  happened  several  times  in  the  course  of  the 
three  centuries  which  have  elapsed.  A  few  years  ago  this- 
tiny  chapel  was  built  to  protect  it.  It  has  become  celebrated, 
and  the  afflicted  come  now  long  distances  to  be  healed  by  it. 
There  it  stands,  a  plain  wooden  cross,  painted  green,  ''at 
the  orders  of  your  Worship,"  as  a  Mexican  would  assure  you, 
ready  to  heal  you  or  yours  of  any  infirmity. 

Mercedes  sat  down  on  the  low  bench  in  the  front  of  the 
chapel  and  looked  at  it  all  for  a  while,  but  listlessly,  for  she 
had  seen  it  all  before.  Then  she  went  out  and  sat  on  the' 
low  adobe  wall  which  was  built  along  the  edge  of  the  rock. 
The  scene  was  oriental,  as  travelers  have  told  us.  There  lay 
the  town  below  her  with  its  churches  and  low,  flat-roofed 
houses,  looking  like  Jerusalem  after  its  glory  had  departed. 
One  stately  palm-tree  standing  alone  waved  its  feathery  foli- 
age in  the  air. 


26  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

She  swept  her  eyes  around  the  purple  encircling  moun- 
tains and  over  the  town.  They  rested  on  the  Jesuit  College. 
The  sight  of  that  building  always  started  a  train  of  thoughts 
which  tramped  through  her  mind  confused  and  troubled,  like 
dark  specters.  The  stories  she  had  heard  of  it  had  had  their 
faatural  effect  on  her  lively  imagination,  on  her  susceptible 
spirit,  nourished  as  it  had  been  in  gross  superstition,  brought 
up,  as  it  were,  on  histories  of  witches,  and  restless  spirits 
escaped  from  purgatory. 

She  had  heard  both  sides  of  the  story  which  I  have  told 
you  of  the  lives  and  teachings  of  the  priests,  and  both  from 
persons  whom  all  the  loyalty  of  her  nature  compelled  her  to 
believe;  the  one  side  from  her  aunt  and  from  the  priests  in 
the  churches,  the  other  from  her  father.  She  knew  tha^ 
what  her  father  said  about  the  wickedness  of  the  Church  and 
of  the  priesthood  was  true,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  her  mother 
had  been  a  devout  Catholic. 

Would  that  I  could  give  you  some  idea  of  the  confusion  of 
mind  of  a  thoughtful  person  who  has  been  thus  brought  up! 
All  her  life  long  this  girl  had  gone  groping  in  the  darkness, 
seeking  some  one  to  lead  her  by  the  hand.  Was  it  right,  re- 
ally right,  to  lie  and  steal  when  the  interests  of  the  Church 
could  be  served  by  so  doing?  Was  it  right  .to  do  evil  that 
good  might  come?  Were  miracles  really  wrought  by  these 
wooden  crosses  and  wooden  images?  Could  they  really,  in 
some  mysterious  way,  hear  prayers?  Was  it  the  real  body 
and  blood  of  the  Lord  which  the  priests  and  people  drank 
and  ate  in  the  churches?  What  kind  of  Being  was  this  Lord 
whom  they  ate,  and  for  whom  they  named  their  children? 
And  the  Father,  God,  of  whom  they  spoke  so  familiarly,  was 
he  the  Great  Spirit  who  created  all  things?  Under  what  ob- 
ligations was  she  to  believe  all  these  things?  She  was  not 
responsible  for  the  existence  of  such  doctrines;  she  had 
found  them  in  the  world  when  she  arrived  here.  Why  must 
she  have  a  religion  at  all?  Was  there,  after  all,  any  God, 
even  an  indefinite  Being  sitting  away  off  in  the  heavens  and 
taking  no  interest  in  the  <-  affairs  of  this  world?  Such  a 


AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  27 

i 

thought,  if  thought  it  might  be  called,  it  was  so  indistinct, 
frightened  her;  she  sprang  up  and  threw  out  her  hands  as  if 
to  fling  it  from  her. 

In  restless  haste  and  without  thinking  of  what  she  was  do- 
ing she  unbraided  her  long,  dark  hair  and  threw  it  back  over 
.her  shoulders.  As  she  stood  there  with  the  wind  plucking 
at  her  hair,  her  hands  clasped  tightly,  her  lips  compressed, 
her  shining  eyes  looking  into  space,  her  mind  full  of  doubts 
and  questionings  suggested  by  the  false  teachings  of  others, 
her  spirit  palpitating  with  noble  restlessness  and  longing  for 
something  higher  and  better,  she  might  well  represent  the 
spirit  of  her  country,  this  young  republic  that  has  suffered 
so  much  from  the  selfishness  and  wickedness  of  others,  this 
nation  which  we  behold  struggling  out  of  the  darkness  of 
Roman  Catholicism,  stumbling  and  falling  and  rising  again 
in  the  road  toward  the  realization  of  the  high  calling  of  na- 
tions. 

Do  not  say  rashly  that  common  sense  should  have  taught 
this  girl  what  was  right.  Try  to  imagine  how  much  you 
would  have  known  if  you  had  inherited  Romanism  from  one 
side  of  your  ancestry  and  paganism  from  the  other.  Remem- 
ber how  your  errors  in  religious  belief  cling  to  you  though 
you  live  in  a  land  of  which  it  might  almost  be  said  that  the 
knowledge  of  the  Lord  covers  it  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea. 

Mercedes  had  never  seen  a  Bible.  Her  case  was  not  pe- 
culiar in  that  respect.  There  are  comparatively  few  persons 
in  Mexico  who  have  ever  seen  it  or  have  any  distinct  idea  of 
the  contents  of  such  a  book. 

Read  this  extract  which  I  cut  from  a  religious  paper,  a 
part  of  a  report  of  a  speech  made  in  a  great  religious  conven- 
tion in  the  United  States  by  an  American  gentleman  whose 
home  is  in  Mexico: 

' '  He  alluded  to  the  fact  that  it  had  been  said  by  one 
*  preacher  that  our  work  in  Mexico  amounted  simply  to  a 
proselyting  from  one  phase  of  Christianity  to  another. 

Then  he  proceeded  to  give  us  an  idea  of  how  much  Chris- 
tianity these  Mexican  Catholics  have. 


28  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

He  said  he  went  into  a  bookstore  where  a  vast  business  is 
done.  Of  course  the  booksellers  are  conversant  with  books, 
necessarily  acquainted  with  every  book  that  is  read  by  the 
people,  for  the  books  must  be  bought  before  they  are  read. 
He  asked  for  a  New  Testament;  none  of  the  clerks  knew 
what  it  was.  The  proprietor  came  up,  and  he  did  not  know, 
but  after  searching  around ,  brought  an  old  dingy  copy  of  the 
Old  Testament  in  Spanish  and  seemed  to  think,  as  it  was 
called  '  old '  that  it  was  an  old  edition  of  the  book  that  was 
asked  for.  The  gentleman  then  took  out  of  his  satchel  a 
New  Testament  in  Spanish  and  showed  it  to  the  bookseller, 
who  exclaimed,  'This  is  the  New  Testament!  Well,  I  have 
had  calls  for  it,  but  I  never  knew  what  it  was  before.'  Of 
course  he  had  had  very  few  calls  for  it,  for  he  would  have 
ascertained  what  it  was  if  his  trade  had  demanded  it. 

At  another  time  he  went  into  another  bookstore  and  asked 
for  a  New  Testament.  Failing  to  find  it,  he  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  the  bookseller  in  regard  to  the  matter.  The 
latter,  resting  his  arm  on  the  counter,  leaned  over  and  looked 
very  earnestly  into  his  face  and  said  with  much  interest: 
'Who  is  the  author  of  this  New  Testament?'" 

Others  have  had  similar  experiences.  After  reading  such 
things  as  this  can  any  one  believe  that  Mexico  is  a  Christian 
land? 

Mercedes,  however,  had  once  read  an  extract  from  that 
mysterious  book.  A  woman  with  a  plain,  kind  face  stopped 
her  one  day  in  the  street  and  requested  her  to  direct  her  to  a 
certain  house.  When  she  thanked  her  for  the  information 
she  gave  her  an  advertisement  card  on  which  was  a  bright 
picture,  telling  her  that  the  reading  on  the  reverse  side  was 
an  extract  from  the  Sacred  Scriptures. 

It  was  that  marvelous  piece  of  word  painting,  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  Last  Judgment,  given  in  the  twenty-fifth  chapter 
of  Matthew.  So  deep  was  the  impression  made  on  her  mind 
that  for  weeks  she  seldom  fell  asleep  without  dreaming  that 
she  stood  before  the  throne  waiting  with  terror  to  hear  her 
sentence.  And  she  was  always  sent  to  the  left-hand  side. 


AT  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  29 

Her  imagination  supplied  all  the  details,  the  joy  of  the 
blessed,  the  anguish  and  despair  of  the  accursed.  It  was  a 
terrible  strain  on  her  childish  mind.  It  was  not  in  her  power 
to  do  any  of  those  good  works  by  which,  as  it  seemed  to  her, 
Heaven  was  to  be  bought.  Besides,  she  had  a  depressing 
feeling  that  nothing  she  could  do  would  be  acceptable  to 
God.  As  the  months  went  by  these  impressions  faded  away; 
for  more  than  a  year  they  had  troubled  her  only  occasionally, 
but  when  they  returned  they  always  brougnt  with  them  a 
vague  feeling  of  unrest  and  of  helpless  terror. 

Her  contemptuous  smile  at  her  aunt's  confidence  in  the 
priests  had  brought  back  this  feeling  of  unrest.  * '  It  was 
very  wicked  of  her  to  entertain  a  disrespectful  thought  of 
her  religious  teachers,"  she  reflected.  "Even  if  they  did  do 
things  that  in  others  would  be  great  sins,  as  her  father  said 
they  did,  it  was  not  wrong  for  them  to  do  so;  they  were  not 
subject  to  the  rules  that  should  govern  other  men;  why,  they 
had  power  like  gods,  like  God  himself,  to  forgive  sins;  they 
opened  and  no  man  shut,  and  shut  and  no  man  opened,  the 
gates  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

"Most  Holy  Mary,"  she  said  softly  as  she  sat  down  again 
on  the  wall,  "help  me  to  think  right  thoughts! " 

Many  a  time  and  more  frequently  as  she  grew  older,  life 
had  seemed  to  be  "closing  in,"  contracting  like  the  pitiless 
walls  of  a  chamber  of  the  Inquisition.  That  impression 
was  very  distinct  this  afternoon.  Oh!  how  she  longed  to 
pass  out  beyond  the  amphitheater  of  hills  and  see  the  world 
which  lay  beyond.  How  she  longed  for  some  of  the  tender 
courtesies  of  life,  for  knowledge,  for  love!  But  there  was 
no  hope  of  anything  better,  she  knew.  There  was  no  hope 
for  her  in  the  "Blessed  Virgin,"  nor  in  God,  nor  in  his  Son, 
nor  in  any  of  the  saints.  The  walls,  of  the  prison  were  com- 
ing nearer,  the  air  was  growing  thick  and  foul;  before  her 
hopeless  eyes  surely,  visibly,  life  was  "closing  in." 

Just  then  she  heard  footsteps,  and  turning  her  head  she 
saw  a  lady  and  a  girl  of  about  her  own  age,  and  a  boy  a  year 
or  two  younger.  They  were  all  well  dressed  in  the  Parisian 


30  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO.' 

style;  for  the  wealthy  people  in  Mexico  get  their  fashions 
directly  from  Paris.  The  lady  wore  a  black  dress  of  some 
soft,  light  material,  and  a  thin  black  scarf,  the  daughter  a 
light  lawn  dress  and  a  silken  scarf. 

The  former  was  a  handsome  matron  of  about  forty.  She 
had  a  clear  brunette  complexion,  dark  brown  hair  with  a  de- 
cided inclination  to  wave,  and  eyes  of  the  same  color.  Her 
self-possession,  her  gait,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  the  very  set 
of  her  head  marked  her  as  a  woman  of  wealth  and  aristocracy. 

The  girl's  face  reminded  one  of  Raphael's  St.  Cecilia. 
There  were  the  same  curved  outlines,  the  tender  mouth, 
sweet  alike  in  seriousness  and  in  mirth,  the  innocent  eyes. 
She  had  a  clear,  rich  complexion  like  her  mother's,  and  hair 
only  a  little  lighter.  It  was  a  beautiful,  girlish  face,  and 
better  than  that  one  felt  at  once  that  it  indicated  sincerity 
and  good  nature.  The  boy  too  was  a  handsome  fellow  with 
a  strong  resemblance  to  his  mother. 

They  were  almost-  out  of  breath  witH  their  climb  to  the  top 
of  the  rock.  They  entered  the  church,  knelt  and  crossed 
themselves  before  the  various  images,  then  the  lady  and  her 
daughter  sat  down  on  one  of  the  benches  inside  to  rest.  If 
they  spoke  at  all  it  was  in  whispers  because  of  the  sanctity 
of  the  place  and  in  order  not  to  disturb  the  worshipper  who 
was  still  diligently  counting  her  beads. 

The  boy  came  out  and  after  saying  "  Good  evening "  po- 
litely to  Mercedes  began  to  amuse  himself  by  throwing  grav- 
els into  the  valley.  Presently  the  lady  and  her  daughter 
came  out  and  stood  looking  at  the  view  before  them. 

"Mama,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low,  musical  voice  which  suited 
well  the  face  and  the  unconscious  air  of  high  breeding  which 
characterized  every  movement,  "it  is  just  eleven  days  now 
until  we  go  to  the  City  of  Mexico. " 

"Yes,  dear,"  replied  the  mother. 

"Is  the  view  from  the  hill  of  Guadalupe  as  pretty  as  this, 
mama? "  went  on  the  girl. 

"O,  yes,  daughter,"  she  replied,  smiling,  "this  is  nothing 
in  comparison  with  that.  I  suppose  there  are  few  views  in 


AT  THE  CHAPEL,  OP  THE  HOLY  WOOD.  31 

Europe  which  surpass  that.  And  we  shall  worship  in  the 
chapel  of  Guadalupe.  You  climb  the  hill  to  it  by  steps,  too." 

"Dear  me!  I  hope  it  isn't  as  tiresome  a  climb  as  this,"  re- 
plied the  girl  with  a  low,  rippling  laugh. 

"You  should  not  speak  of  getting  tired  in  the  service  of 
God,  Magdalena,"  replied  her  mother  in  a  gently  reproving 
tone.  ' '  There  is  no  merit  in  it  when  there  is  no  physical 
suffering.  Chapels  and  shrines  are  built  on  high,  steep  hills 
that  we  may  mortify  the  flesh  in  reaching  them  and  so  be 
prepared  to  receive  the  grace  of  God.  Come,  it  is  time  to  go 
home,"  she  added.  "Come,  Salvador  (Savior),  let's  go,"  and 
they  crossed  the  space  in  front  of  the  chapel,  saying  "adios" 
pleasantly  to  Mercedes  as  they  passed,  and  descended  the 
steps  on  the  side  of  the  rock  opposite  to  that  where  they  had 
ascended.  Mercedes  watched  them  until  they  had  disap- 
peared, the  boy  and  girl  hand  in  hand  merrily  jumping  down 
the  steps. 

A  vision  of  loveliness  they  seemed  to  her;  to  see  them  was 
to  have  a  glimpse  of  the  world  that  she  longed  for.  She  had 
seen  them  before  at  a  distance.  The  lady,  she  knew,  was 
the  wife  of  her  father's  landlord,  the  owner  of  the  great  ha- 
cienda on  which  all  her  kindred  except  her  father  had  worn 
out  their  lives  in  the  hopeless  effort  to  pay  ever-increasing 
debts. 

"They  do  not  seem  to  be  such  dreadful  people,"  she 
thought;  "they  spoke  very  kindly  to  me.  They  have  always 
been  rich  and  happy.  Of  course  they  can't  know  how  it 
seems  to  be  any  other  way.  I  wonder  how  life  seems  to 
them." 

Just  then  her  aunt  came  out  of  the  church,  and  Mercedes 
rolled  up  the  matting  and  with  aching  limbs  and  an  aching 
heart  followed  her  down  the  steps. 


.32  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
A  PEON. 

MERCEDES'  father  was  a  peon.  A  peon  is  a  man  who 
owes  a  debt  and  is  under  obligations  to  work  for  his 
creditor  till  the  debt  is  paid.  While  the  peon  is  actually  em- 
ployed the  master  furnishes  him  an  insufficient  quantity  of 
corn  for  bread;  he  allows  him  also  a  miserable  house  free  of 
rent. 

In  return  the  peon  must  work  for  his  creditor,  and  for  him 
alone  until  the  debt  is  paid.  The  comity  of  the  system  for- 
bids one  master's  employing  the  peons  of  another.  The 
paying  of  the  debt  is  made  impossible  by  the  prices  at  which 
his  food  and  the  other  necessities  of  life  are  furnished  him, 
for  he  must  buy  everything  from  his  master,  with  whom  an 
account  was  opened  when  he  became  his  debtor.  If  the  price 
of  a  peck  of  corn  is  20  cents  it  is  sold  to  the  peon  for  40  cents; 
cloth  that  would  be  sold  to  other  men  for  25  cents  a  yard  is 
sold  to  the  peon  for  50  cents — that  is  to  say  that  in  that,  as 
in  all  other  cases,  it  is  entered  on  the  book  that  he  has  be- 
come a  debtor  to  those  amounts.  This  being  the  case  it  is 
-clear  that  he  can  never  discharge  his  debts. 

The  debts  of  the  fathers  do  not  extend  to  the  children  dur- 
ing their  lives,  nor  are  they  inherited  by  them  when  the 
parents  die.  But  the  children  become  peons  by  force  of  cir- 
cumstances. They  must  live;  to  live  they  must  work;  even 
if  another  master  would  employ  them  they  would  be  in  no 
better  condition  in  his  service;  it  is  better  to  stay  together; 
as  soon  as  they  are  large  enough  for  their  work  to  be  worth 
anything  they  open  accounts  with  their  father's  master,  thus 
becoming  peons.  If  the  master  thinks  the  children  are  slow 
about  entering  into  the  father's  or  mother's  state  of  servitude 
lie  has  some  very  simple  means  of  hastening  that  desirable 


A  PEON.  33 

consummation:  he  has  only  to  oppress  the  parents  more  and 
the  children  must,  for  the  subsistence  of  the  family,  open 
accounts  with  him.  When  an  hacienda  is  sold,  the  peons,  by 
means  of  their  debts,  are  sold  with  it.  When  the  children 
inherit  the  land  they  inherit  the  peons  'with  it. 

The  great  haciendas  in  this  country  are  said  to  be  about 
equally  divided  between  Mexicans  and  foreigners.  The  lat- 
ter are  Spaniards,  Frenchmen  and  Italians.  These  spend 
nearly  if  not  all  their  time  in  Europe;  and  the  Mexican 
owners  of  haciendas  spend  the  greater  part  of  the  time  either 
in  Europe  or  in  the  cities.  The  administration  of  affairs  is 
left  to  superintendents.  If  the  Senor  receives  his  regular 
supplies  of  money  he  probably  gives  himself  little  concern 
about  the  policy  employed  on  his  estate.  If,  by  chance,  a 
humane  man  should  be  employed  as  superintendent,  and  by 
virtue  of  his  justice  it  should  become  possible  for  the  peons 
to  pay  their  debts  they  would  leave  the  hacienda  when  these 
were  paid,  or  go  on  working  for  reasonable  wages;  in  either 
case  there  would  be  less  money  to  send  to  the  Senor;  he 
would  know  at  once  that  something  was  wrong  in  the  admin- 
istration of  his  affairs;  he  might  not  know  exactly  what  it 
was,  but,  in  short,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he  would  employ 
another  superintendent. 

There  is,  therefore,  for  the  peon,  no  escape  from  slavery 
but  through  the  gateway  of  death.  In  some  respects  it  is 
worse  than  the  slavery  of  the  negroes  in  our  southern  States 
before  the  war.  The  slaveholder  provided  sufficient  and 
wholesome  food,  and  comfortable  lodgings  and  clothing  for 
his  negroes  on  the  same  principle  that  prompted  him  to  care 
for  his  horses  and  cattle.  The  master  of  peons  provides  for 
his  slaves  only  while  they  are  at  work,  and  very  poorly  then; 
if  they  die  he  can  get  others  for  nothing.  The  negroes  could 
be  beaten  for  real  or  fancied  delinquencies;  the  peons  are  not 
whipped,  but  with  them  other  ways  of  punishment  are  used 
that  are,  perhaps,  worse.  When  the  superintendent  thinks  a 
peon  is  guilty  of  an  offense  he  complains  of  him  to  the  court, 
representing  the  case  as  he  thinks  proper.  The  superintend  - 
3 


34  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

ent  is  generally  on  good  terms  with  the  judge,  and  the  result 
is  the  peon  is  put  into  prison.  There,  of  course,  the  op- 
pressed man  is  making  nothing;  his  wife  and  children,  if  they 
are  unable  to  work,  are  suffering;  if  they  can  work  they  are 
entering  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  servitude  of  his  master. 

The  system  of  peonage  was  abolished  by  the  constitution 
of  1857,  the  constitution  published  by  Benito  Juarez.  The 
theory  was  changed,  in  practice  it  is  the  same,  the  difference 
being  that  the  peon  cannot  now  be  legally  imprisoned  for 
debt.  It  is,  however,  sometimes  done  illegally.  The  reason 
the  system  remains  the  same  is  this:  Those  who  were  then 
peons  could  never  pay  their  debts  for  reasons  which  I  have 
explained,  and  their  children  also  became  peons  for  reasons 
also  explained.  For  some  reason,  however,  perhaps  owing  to 
some  little  relenting  on  the  part  of  some  of  the  masters,  there 
are  not  quite  so  many  peons  as  formerly.  Then,  nearly  all 
the  humble  class  in  some  of  the  States  were  peons;  now  there 
are  some  even  in  the  peon  States  who  maintain  a  struggling, 
uncertain  independence.  In  some  of  the  States  peonage  does 
not  exist. 

There  is  one  strip  of  country  in  Mexico  in  which  the  system 
has  been  considerably  mitigated  since  the  publication  of  the 
Constitution  forbidding  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  the 
debtor.  In  the  parts  of  the  northern  States  which  border  on 
the  United  States  the  peon,  knowing  that  he  has  over  and 
over  worked  out  his  debts,  flees  from  his  master  to  Texas  or 
to  the  other  bordering  States;  or  his  sons  escape  to  the 
United  States  and,  finding  employment,  make  money  and  pay 
the  father's  debts.  It  is  said  that  this  is  the  history  of  nearly 
all  the  Mexicans  in  Texas,  and  in  the  other  States  of  the 
United  States  which  border  on  the  Rio  Grande.  They  have 
escaped  from  centuries  of  bitter  and  hopeless  slavery;  will 
not  this  fact  give  you  a  tenderer  feeling  for  the  men  and 
women  whom  you  call  by  the  ignominious  name  of  "greasers"? 

Some  of  these  escaped  peons  have  returned  to  the  frontier 
of  Mexico  and  have  succeeded  in  buying  small  tracts  of  land, 
and  by  industry  and  economy  have  become  prosperous. 


A  PEON. 


35 


These  favorable  conditions  exist  nowhere  else  but  in  the 
frontier.  The  peons  of  the  haciendas  farther  toward  the 
south — whither  shall  they  flee?  Ground  down  by  ignorance, 
they  know  nothing  of  the  liberty  offered  in  the  United  States, 
and  if  they  knew  of  it  their  poverty  would  not  permit  them 
to  avail  themselves  of  it.  There  is  absolutely  no  alternative 
for  them;  they  and  their  wives  and  their  sons  and  their 
daughters  after  them  must  live  and  die  in  this  cruel  slavery, 
in  ignorance  and  superstition  and  poverty. 

The  class  of  peons  is  very  large,  compared  with  the  ruling 
class.  The  haciendas  are  immense,  some  of  them  being  as 
large  as  the  smaller  of  the  New  England  States.  On  each 
hacienda  there  are  hundreds  or  thousands  of  the  peons, 
according  to  the  extent  of  the  estate  or  the  ability  of  the 
owner  to  cultivate  it.  There  is  a  surplus  of  field  labor  in 
nearly  every  State  in  the  Republic. 

On  all  public  questions  the  laborers  are  kept  in  ignorance 
and  are  influenced  to  act  as  the  Sefior  or  superintendent  de- 
sires. In  the  popular  elections,  for  instance,  the  men  all 
vote  blindly  as  "mi  Sefior"  directs  them  to  do. 

The  remedies  proposed  for  this  evil  are  the  development 
of  other  industries  besides  agriculture,  such  as  mining  and 
manufacturing — industries  which  will  give  steady  employ- 
ment to  men  and  just  remuneration,  thus  enabling  them  to 
maintain  their  liberty  and  perhaps  buy  that  of  some  of  their 
kindred.  The  establishment  and  support  of  common  schools 
will  also  do  much  to  accomplish  their  emancipation;  but  com- 
pulsory attendance  on  the  schools  will  be  necessary. 

From  that  very  interesting  book,  "Mexico:  Our  Neighbor, " 
I  learn  that  "in  several  of  the  more  progressive  States 
attendance  at  the  schools  is  required  and  enforced  by  law; 
and  in  many  localities  where  the  parents  of  school  children 
are  obliged  to  labor  in  the  fields  or  elsewhere  during  school 
hours  nurseries  are  maintained  with  suitable  attendants  to 
care  for  the  children  under  school  age.  The  most  encourag- 
ing information  regarding  the  schools  was  the  admitted  fact 
that  the  Indian  children  are  tractable  and  studious,  learn 


36  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

rapidly,  and  soon  become  greatly  interested  in  their  studies, 
exhibiting  quite  phenomenal  powers  for  memorizing  and 
retaining,  and  fair  capacity  for  the  mastery  and  application 
of  principles." 

Of  course,  the  breaking  up  of  these  great  haciendas  into 
smaller  estates,  which  will  inevitably  result  from  the  laws  of 
inheritance  in  forpe  in  this  country,  will  have  a  tendency  to 
mitigate  the  evils  of  peonage.  Real  estate  is  here  divided 
among  all  the  children,  instead  of  being  given  to  the  eldest 
son,  as  is  the  case  in  England.  The  children  of  these  rich  land 
owners,  are,  in  many  cases,  rendered  incapable  or  averse  to 
attending  to  business  by  the  idle  and  luxurious  habits  in 
which  they  are  reared;  therefore  they,  more  easily  than  their 
fathers,  sell  parts  of  their  estates.  The  result  will  be  that  as 
the  poor  man  is  enabled  by  mining  and  manufacturing  opera- 
tions to  make  and  save  a  small  sum  of  money  he  will  invest 
it  in  land  and  become  the  independent  owner  of  a  farm.  But 
this  is  at  present  little,  if  anything,  more  than  a  dream  of  the 
future. 

Atanacio  Gonzales  had  a  fine  mind,  and  with  his  energy 
and  perseverance  might,  if  he  had  been  educated,  have  stood 
abreast  of  the  most  intelligent  men  of  his  country.  But  the 
policy  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  Mexico,  as  in  all  other  coun- 
tries in  which  she  has  had  temporal  power,  has  always  been 
to  keep  the  people  in  ignorance  in  order  to  keep  them  in  sub- 
jection to  herself.  Through  her  influence  there  were  no 
government  schools  in  Mexico  till  after  the  publication  of 
the  present  Constitution.  It  is  said  that  before  that  there 
were  few  Catholic  schools;  but  after  the  establishment  of  the 
government  schools  the  Church  also  increased  the  number  of 
her  schools,  and  they  were  improved,  she  opining  that  if  the 
people  were  to  be  educated  it  would  be  better  for  her  inter- 
ests for  them  to  be  educated  in  her  schools.  It  is  estimated 
that  at  present  about  sixty -six  per  cent,  of  the  people  can- 
not read. 

In  his  youth  Atanacio  had  been  a  Catholic;  but  in  the  army 
of  Juarez  he  had  imbibed  liberal  sentiments,  and  they  had 


A  PEON  37 

been  strengthened  by  his  observations  in  later  years  of  the 
superstitions  and  absurdities  of  Romanism,  and  the  corrup- 
tions of  the  priesthood.  His  daughter  had  been  accustomed 
from  her  earliest  years  to  hear  him  reiterate  these  facts  and 
hurl  maledictions  against  the  Church.  If  he  had  said  such 
things  in  a  calm  and  moderate  way  they  would  have  had  far 
more  effect  on  her,  but  the  impressions  she  received  against 
the  Church  were  accompanied  by  an  indistinct  idea  that  her 
father  himself,  the  being  she  most  loved,  was  not  quite  as 
good  as  he  ought  to  be,  and  that  he  was  not,  therefore,  a 
very  good  judge  of  religion. 

The  consideration  of  the  abuses  of  the  Church,  the  disap- 
pointments of  his  life,  and  the  long  and  hopeless  struggle  with 
poverty  which  he  as  a  peon  had  had  to  wage,  had  hardened 
and  embittered  him.  Yet  he  was  a  favorite  with  his  com- 
panions; he  had  always  been  since  the  days  when  in  Juarez' 
war  camp  he  read  to  his  fellow  soldiers  this  volume  of  Don 
Quixote,  on  which  his  daughter  now  feasted,  pronouncing 
many  of  the  words  in  a  way  that  would  have  been  excrucia- 
ting to  the  Spanish  Academy. 


38  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  V. 
AN  EVENING  IN  MERCEDES!  HOME. 

WHEN  Maria  de  los  Angeles  and  her  niece  reached  home 
it  was  dark.  They  passed  through  the  wide  front  en- 
trance, crossed  a  dirty  court  and  entered  a  long,  white- washed 
room.  It  had  no  windows,  the  ventilation  being  effected 
through  the  door  and  a  hole  a  little  larger  than  that  allowed 
for  a  stove-pipe  near  the  top  of  the  room,  though,  to  tell  the 
truth,  this  was  generally  closed  with  rags.  Overhead  in- 
stead of  a  ceiling  were  seen  the  bare,  round  beams.  The 
canes  which  were  laid  over  these  to  support  the  earth  with 
which  the  house  was  covered  were  in  such  a  state  of  decay 
that  when  the  long-delayed  rains  should  come  there  would 
be  many  a  leak  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  dry  spots  on 
the  floor  for  the  pallets  on  which  they  slept. 

A  scaffold  with  a  very  thin  mattress  on  which  lay  the  af- 
flicted lad,  a  high  table  with  very  slender  legs,  three  high 
chairs,  two  of  which  had  lost  their  backs,  a  chest  for  clothing 
elevated  on  a  small  frame  like  a  table  to  keep  it  off  the 
earthen  floor  and  a  low  bench  sitting  against  the  wall,  consti- 
tuted ordinarily  the  furniture  of  the  room.  But  in  this  time 
of  affliction  Maria  de  los  Angeles  had  erected  an  altar  at  the 
end  of  the  room  opposite  that  in  which  lay  the  sick  boy  that 
he  might  have  before  his  eyes  continually  the  crucifix  and 
the  images  of  the  saints  with  which  it  was  plentifully  fur- 
nished. It  consisted  of  a  scaffold  or  table  about  three  feet 
high,  four  long  and  two  wide,  covered  with  soiled  and  ragged 
white  cotton  cloth.  It  was  adorned  with  colored  paper  cut 
into  fancy  shapes,  and  with  all  the  toys,  crucifixes  and  im- 
ages of  saints  which  the  devoted  maternal  relative  of 
Mordicai  could  borrow  from  her  neighbors,  and  rent  from 


AN  EVENING  IN  MERCEDES'  HOME.  39 

the  priest.  Before  the  image  of  Joseph, l  the  husband  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  were  burning  wax  candles. 

A  neighbor  had  been  engaged  to  wait  on  the  sick  boy  dur- 
ing Maria's  absence.  A  great  catastrophe  had  scarcely  been 
averted.  As  Maria,  after  ascertaining  the  state  of  Mordicai's 
feelings,  and  learning  that  no  miracle  of  healing  had  been 
wrought  while  she  had  been  absent,  sat  down  Turkish  fashion 
on  the  floor  to  rest  while  Mercedes  prepared  the  supper, 
Cipriana  proceeded  to  relate  the  distressing  narrative,  Maria 
meantime  showing  her  appreciation  by  plentiful  exclamations 
of  "Maria  purisima,"  and  other  invocations  which  I  prefer 
not  to  repeat.  In  her  excitement  the  good  natured  Cipriana 
indulged  in  the  high  tones,  violent  gesticulation  and  strong, 
inverted  constructions  so  common  among  ignorant  people  in 
southern  countries. 

"Awhile  ago  I  went  home  to  put  on  the  coffee  and  frejolea 
for  supper.  I  left  Manuel  asleep  on  the  floor;  Jubencia  I  left 
awake.  There  on  the  table  was  the  candle  lighted;  the  can- 
dle left  I  right  there  on  the  table  lighted.  Jubencia  took  the 
candle,  lighted  as  it  was,  and  set  it  on  that  box.  There  on 
that  very  box  put  Jubencia  the  candle  lighted.  The  dress 
that  you  bought  from  Dona  Antonia  was  hanging  above  the 
box  just  as  you  left  it.  It  caught  fire  and  burned  up  almost 
entirely,  and  not  only  that  dress,  but  a  dress  of  Jubencia's 
and  other  things.  I  was  so  sorry  for  the  loss  of  that  dress  of 
Dona  Antonia's,  as  you  had  wanted  to  keep  it  as  a  reminder 
of  her;  yes,  the  loss  of  the  dress,  how  sorry  I  was  of  it!  And 
the  children,  Maria  santisima  !  they  might  have  been  burned 
alive!  Alive  might  have  been  burned  the  children!  But 
Jubencia  screamed  and  my  brother  ran  in  and  put  out  the 
fire." 

lNote. — Monsefior  Guame,  Apostolic  Legate  and  Doctor  of  Theology  in 
Paris,  France,  says:  "To  this  act  of  divine  policy  (the  declaration  of  the 
Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Virgin  Mary)  Pius  IX.  adds  another.  He 
wishes  the  church  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  to  have  for  a  defender  the 
glorious  patriarch  whom  Mary  herself  obeyed  on  the  earth,  and  who  in 
heaven  has  lost  none  of  his  authority  over  her  and  his  divine  Son.  By 
a  recent  decree  the  Vicar  of  Jesus  Christ  solemnly  declares  St.  Joseph 
protector  of  the  Universal  Church." 


40  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

The  three  year  old  cherub,  Manuel,  had  waked  during  the 
excitement  about  the  fire,  and  he  continued  to  cry  till 
Mercedes  gave  him  his  supper.  It  consisted  of  a  teacupf  ul 
of  calabasa,  that  is,  sweetened  pumpkin.  He  sat  on  the  dirt 
floor,  as  did  all  the  smaller  children,  to  dispatch  his  meal. 
This  done  he  stretched  himself  out  in  as  composed  a  posture 
as  if  he  were  "laid  out,"  thrust  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of 
his  pantaloons  and  resumed  his  crying,  screaming  lustily,  * '  I 
want  to  go  to  sleep,"  "I  want  to  go  to  sleep."  Jubencia 
joined  him,  and  Cipriana's  year  old  baby,  also  in  pantaloons, 
added  his  voice  to  the  uproar. 

"  May  all  the  saints  help  me!  "  exclaimed  Maria.  "Manuel, 
if  you  are  sleepy  why  don't  you  go  to  sleep?  Don't  hurry  off, 
Cipriana.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  taking  care  of 
them  for  me.  Jubencia,  hush!  Mercedes,  take  up  Manuel 
and  take  off  his  shoes  and  put  him  to  bed." 

Just  then  Mercedes'  father  came  in  with  an  acquaintance. 
They  both  wore  white  pantaloons,  shirts  of  the  same  ma- 
terial, and  sandals,  that  is,  pieces  of  sole  leather  bound  on 
their  feet  with  leather  strings. 

Mercedes'  heart  gave  a  leap  of  joy  when  she  saw  her  father 
lay  down  a  new  hat.  For  two  or  three  months  he  had  worn 
a  hat  that  was  so  ragged  it  would  not  protect  his  head  from 
the  burning  rays  of  a  semitropical  sun;  for  a  week  he  had 
had  none.  But  the  daughter  did  not  know  what  the  new  one 
had  cost  him;  neither  did  he.  The  superintendent  had 
ostensibly  sold  it  to  him  for  $.75,  but  he  had  written  on  his 
account  book  $2.00  as  the  price  of  it. 

Atanacio  had  sometimes  had  hopes  of  paying  off  those  ter- 
rible debts  before  he  died  so  that  his  daughter  might  not  be 
doomed  all  her  life  to  grind  corn,  as  it  were,  in  the  kitchens 
of  his  masters,  but  he  had  more  than  once  had  reasons  to 
suspect  such  dealing  as  this  on  the  part  of  the  overseer. 
There  was  no  redress,  as  he  knew;  and  the  hope,  which  had 
never  had  more  than  a  struggling  existence,  went  on  through 
the  toilsome  days  dying  a  slow  death.  Most  of  the  peons 
submitted  quietly  to  their  fate,  but  it  was  not  in  Atanacio's 


AN  EVENING  IN  MERCEDES'  HOME.  41 

nature  to  bear  it  in  silence.     He  was  in  a  good  humor  to- 
night, however. 

He  was  of  medium  height  and  heavily  built.  His  black 
hair  was  long  and  shaggy,  and  this  with  the  bushy  eyebrows- 
above  his  dark  penetrating  eyes  gave  him  an  almost  fierce 
appearance. 

After  the  salutations  were  over  he  gave  his  guest,  Rai- 
mundo,  a  tall,  slender,  mild-looking  man,  a  seat  at  the  table. 
There  was  no  table  cloth,  but  Mercedes  spread  before  the 
guest  a  coarse,  brown,  cotton  napkin  with  fringe  and  a- 
simple  pattern  of  open  work  at  each  end.  She  then  brought 
their  supper  of  coffee,  frijoles,  tortillas  and  chile.  This  lat- 
ter delicacy  is  no  more  nor  less  than  stewed  red  pepper.  I 
have  heard  it  said  that  in  some  parts  of  Mexico  they  make 
coffee  fit  for  a  Sultan  of  Constantinople.  This  beverage  did 
not  belong  to  that  class;  it  was  strong  and  black,  very  sug- 
gestive in  smell  and  taste  of  the  burnt  grains  of  which  it  was 
made.  The  coarse,  brown  sugar  was  cooked  in  it.  They 
partook  of  their  supper  without  the  luxury  of  knives  and 
forks. 

As  the  two  men  began  to  sip  their  coffee  they  plunged  into 
a  discussion  of  the  weather  and  its  influence  on  the  crops, 
for  having  met  only  a  few  minutes  before  in  the  street  they 
had  not  had  time  to  dispose  of  that  topic. 

"If  God  does  not  succor  us  with  rain  soon,"  said  Rai- 
mundo,  loosening  the  Turkish  towel  which  he  wore  about  his 
neck,  V  there  will  be  more  suffering  than  any  of  us  have  ever 
seen.  Why,  now  in  Sal  till  o  corn  sells  at  seventy -five  cents  a 
peck,  and  frijoles  are  still  higher.  I  thought  as  I  came  along" 
yesterday  that  the  fields  between  there  and  here  were  drier 
than  I  had  ever  seen  them.  How  are  prices  here  ?  " 

"O,  about  the  same.     But  we  are  expecting  rain  now." 

"Why?  "  asked  the  visitor  in  surprise. 

"They  brought  in  the  Virgin  of  St.  John  last  Sunday,"  he- 
replied  sententiously,  with  a  glance  at  Maria  de  los  Angeles 
over  his  cup  as  he  drank.  4 '  That  lady  would  not  be  so  im- 
polite as  to  leave  us  in  misery  after  receiving  all  that  atten- 
tion. You  are  a  good  Catholic  still,  are  you,  Raimundo?  " 


42  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"  Yes, "  replied  that  mild-looking  person,  scarcely  knowing 
what  to  say,  for  he  had  seen  the  glance  at  Maria,  and  had 
also  seen  her  face  cloud  with  anger.  ' '  Yes,  I  have  not  gone 
back  on  the  religion  of  my  fathers  yet." 

"You  go  to  mass  every  Sunday,  confess  at  least  once  a 
year,  do  penance  now  and  then,  and  repeat  prayers  with  de- 
votion to  gain  indulgences,  just  as  our  good  Father  Ripalda 
says  we  must?  "  went  on  Atanacio,  for  his  politeness  did  not 
prevent  his  pursuing  a  subject  that  was  disagreeable  to  his 
guest. 

* '  Yes,  I  do  all  that.  A  man  must  have  some  religion,  and 
what  better  can  he  have  than  that  his  fathers  had  before 
him?" 

44 Certainly,"  replied  Atanacio  with  provoking  coolness, 
"we  are  very  religious  ourselves.  You  have  noticed  our 
altar.  Why  in  the  last  week  Maria  has  burned  more  tallow 
under  the  nostrils  of  the  Senor  St.  Joseph,"  he  said  with  a 
quick  motion  of  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  at  the  image  of 
Joseph,  "more  than  she  will  be  able  to  pay  for  in  a  month 
with  all  the  savings  from  her  washing,  not  to  speak  of  the 
rent  she  has  to  pay  the  priest  for  her  idols.  Three  of  those 
she  has  on  the  altar  are  rented  from  him  at  the  rate  of  a 
dollar  a  month.  And  if  Mordicai  dies  from  that  leg,"  he  con- 
tinued with  a  mischievous  glance  at  the  boy  who  was  propped 
up  on  the  bed,  "if  he  should  die,  you  know,  it  would  take 
more  money  than  Maria  can  earn  all  the  rest  of  her  life  to 
pay  the  priests  to  pray  him  out  of  purgatory." 

"Did  you  ever  think,"  Raimundo,"  he  went  on,  now  under 
full  headway,  ' '  did  you  ever  count  up  what  it  costs  a  fellow 
to  be  saved  by  this  Holy  Apostolic  Church?  " 

' '  No, "  said  the  visitor  with  dignity,  ' '  I've  never  counted  it. " 

"Well,  suppose  we  count  it.  Take  the  child  of  a  poor  man 
like  me.  First  the  baby  must  be  baptized,  because  if  it  isn't 
it  will  be  lost,  certain.  That  costs  $2.25.  Now  it  is  regen- 
erated by  this  baptism,  you  know,  and  one  who  didn't  know 
the  Holy  Mother  Church  might  think  that  was  the  end  of  it. 
But  it  is  only  the  beginning.  When  he  is  five  or  six  years 


AN  EVENING  IN  MERCEDES'  HOME.  43 

old,  for  his  greater  security,  he  must  be  confirmed;  that 
costs  $.  25.  He  grows  up  and  takes  it  into  his  head  to  be 
married,  just  as  if  a  poor  man  who  doesn't  know  one  day 
where  he  is  to  get  bread  for  the  next  had  any  right  to  a  wife. 
The  Reverend  Father  says  he  will  marry  him  for  $15.00. l 
Now  the  fellow  makes  about  $.40  a  day  when  he  can  get 
work  to  do,  which  isn't  all  the  time  by  any  means.  His  food 
costs  at  least  twelve  cents  a  day,  the  rest  he  must  pay  for 
clothing  and  shelter,  even  if  he  has  no  kinsfolk  to  help  on. 
How  long  do  you  think  it  will  take  him  to  save  the  $15.00,  eh, 
Raimundo?  even  if  his  sisters  should  help  him  from  their 
little  savings  to  buy  his  sweetheart's  wedding  dress?  " 

"He  can  never  save  it,"  reluctantly  confessed  the  visitor. 

"Hardly  ever,"  resumed  Atanacio,  scornfully,  "and  so  he 
says  to  the  good  priest.  And  what  does  he  reply?  'Well,  let 
another  take  the  girl  then.'  So  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  be 
married  by  the  Church,  and  the  priest  has  taught  him  to 
believe  in  no  other.  It  is  true  that  he  can  sometimes  secure 
the  Church  marriage  by  becoming  a  perpetual  debtor  to  the 
priest.  But  that  might  be  a  thing  of  the  past  but  for  the 
superstition  of  Mexicans,"  he  continued,  glancing  toward 
Maria  de  los  Angeles,  who,  having  eaten  her  supper,  had 
seated  herself  sullenly  on  the  low  bench  and,  accompanied 
by  Mercedes,  had  taken  up  the  usual  occupation  of  the  even- 
ing, the  making  of  cigarettes.  ' '  He  might  now  be  married 
by  the  civil  law.  That,  in  this  part  of  the  country,  would 
not  cost  him  but  $4.00. 2  But  the  trouble  is  the  poor  fellow 
won't  believe  that  that  is  marriage,  he  still  wants  '  the  holy 
sacrament  of  the  Church'  or  nothing." 

"Ave  Maria  purisima!"  exclaimed  the  amiable  hostess. 
"That  I  should  have  to  listen  to  such  blasphemy  against  the 

lNote. — This  is  a  very  low  price.  I  know  serving1  women  whose  hus- 
bands, with  the  help  of  their  relatives,  paid  as  much  as  $30  or  $40.  The 
expense  is  in  proportion  to  the  elegance  of  the  ceremony — the  quantity 
of  holy  water,  incense,  etc.,  that  is  used. 

"Note. — According  to  the  law  civil  marriage  is  free  if  the  contracting 
parties  go  to  the  office  of  the  judge;  but  in  some  States,  by  an  abuse  of 
authority,  the  judges  charge  according,  they  say,  to  the  ability  of  the 
groom  to  pay. 


44  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Mother  Church !  and  in  my  own  house,  too!"  She  always  spoke 
of  it  as  her  "own  house,"  though  she  was  indebted  to  Atanacio 
for  that  poor  shelter.  Her  husband  had  left  her  about  two 
years  before  without  giving  any  account  of  his  conduct  either 
to  the  law  or  to  the  people.  In  this  he  only  acted  like  a 
large  proportion  of  the  men  of  his  class. 

"You  are  very  much  mistaken.  It  is  marriage  by  the 
Church  that  is  not  marriage  at  all.  It  is  a  mere  farce." 

The  protege  of  the  angels  jerked  angrily  the  painted 
wooden  tray  in  which  was  the  tobacco,  spilling  some  of  it 
into  her  lap. 

Atanacio  went  on,  "Well,  he  goes  on  through  life,  con- 
fessing and  reciting  prayers,  paying  for  indulgences,  crawl- 
ing up  church  steps,  whipping  himself  with  knotted  cords  and 
thorny  sticks,  buying  scapularies  to  wear  around  his  neck,  so 
that  if  he  dies  suddenly  the  Blessed  Virgin  will  send  the 
angels  to  take  him  straight  to  heaven,  giving  a  few  cents 
now  and  then  to  the  beggars,  as  he  can  afford  it,  to  pay  his 
entrance  into  the  celestial  city;  and  at  last  he  comes  to  die. 
Then  notwithstanding  his  regeneration  in  his  baptism  at  the 
beginning  of  his  career,  somebody  must  go  flying  off  for  the 
priest  to  come  and  hear  his  last  confession  and  administer 
the  extreme  unction.  Then  the  funeral  in  the  church  must 
be  paid  for,  a  good  healthy  sum  for  the  masses,  candles,  etc., 
ete.  He  must  be  buried  in  consecrated  ground,  for  it  would 
break  the  hearts  of  his  wife  and  children  to  lay  him  in 
unblessed  earth.  So  the  Father  must  be  paid  to  bless  it." 

44  You  know  how  it  was  formerly;  all  the  burying  grounds 
belonged  to  the  Church,  and  if  one  could  not  pay  he  could 
not  bury  his  dead  at  all.  When  the  bereaved  family  went  to 
the  priest  and  asked  permission  to  bury  in  the  Campo  Santo 
(the  cemetery)  the  reply  always  was,  *  Where  is  your  money? ' 
4 1  have  none,  Reverend  Father,'  said  the  widow,  kneeling 
and  kissing  his  hand.  '  Then  go  and  eat  your  husband, '  re- 
plied the  embassador  of  Christ. " 

"I  remember  when  I  buried  my  wife,"  he  said  abruptly, 
with  a  tremor  in  his  voice.  He  bent  his  head  on  his  hand  for 


AN  EVENING  IN  MERCEDES'  HOME.  45 

a  few  moments,  raised  it,  attempted  to  go  on,  failed,  got  up, 
in  his  shame  and  confusion  giving  the  table  a  push  that  set 
the  cups  and  plates  a  rattling,  and  went  out  into  the  court. 
He  was  a  rough  man,  you  know. 

Mercedes'  head  bent  lower  over  the  package  of  cigarettes 
she  was  putting  up.  In  the  silence  that  had  fallen  in  the 
room  the  corn  shucks  in  which  they  were  wrapped  rustled 
loudly.  The  visitor  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand;  he,  too, 
was  ashamed  of  betraying  emotion.  He  heartily  wished  that 
he  could  defend  the  faith  of  his  forefathers,  but  he  knew 
that  much  more  of  the  same  kind  might  be  added. 

Presently  Atanacio  came  in  and  sat  down.  "O,  the  dead 
always  were  buried,  I  suppose,"  he  said.  "The  relatives 
could  go  into  the  streets  and  beg  the  money;  and  thank  God 
there  always  have  been  people  with  kind  enough  hearts  to 
give  for  such  a  purpose.  But  the  Constituent  Congress  put 
a  stop  to  all  that  when  they  confiscated  the  lands  of  the 
Church  to  the  State  and  provided  burial  grounds.  That  was 
in  '59,  you  know,"  he  was  fond  of  being  explicit  on  these 
points;  "only  it  was  a  long  time  before  some  of  the  Catholics 
would  accept  this  liberty.  A  man  may  bury  his  dead  for 
nothing  now,  and  if  he  cares  for  the  priest's  blessing  and  the 
holy  water  he  can  pay  him  to  consecrate  the  ground." 

"Now  he  is  dead  and  buried,  and  just  here  one  might  say 
really  begins  the  expense  of  his  salvation.  He  is  in  purga- 
tory suffering  in  the  flames  of  torment.  They  are  painted 
for  the  widow  and  children  in  lively  colors  by  the  compas- 
sionate spiritual  adviser,  compassionate,  you  see,  to  the  poor 
soul  in  torment.  Then  if  she  is  conscientious  and  really 
loves  her  husband,  she  will  pay  the  priest  all  that  she  and 
the  children  can  spare  from  their  earnings  to  say  masses  for 
his  release.  And  pay  as  much  as  she  may  the  time  of  his 
release  is  always  a  little  way  in  the  future,  after  a  little  more 
or  a  good  deal  more  money  shall  have  been  paid.  This  is 
what  the  Church  makes  off  a  poor  man's  soul,  and  she  makes 
as  much  more  off  a  rich  man's  as  she  can  possibly  wring 
from  him  during  his  life  and  from  his  wife  and  children  after 


46  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

his  death.  How  many  fine  houses  can  you  think  of,  Raimundo,. 
that  have  come  into  the  hands  of  the  priests  from  the  widows 
and  children  of  rich  men,  leaving  them  in  poverty?" 

"I  know  of  one  or  two  cases*  of  the  kind,"  replied  the 
guest  with  some  hesitation,  and  looking  about  him  uneasily. 

"  I  should  think  you  did.  I  have  not  been  about  this  world 
much,  but  I  know  of  more  than  that  myself.  In  one  case  a 
well-to-do  man  died  and  the  priest  told  his  widow  he  had  not 
paid  alms  enough  to  secure  his  entrance  into  heaven.  So 
the  money  was  all  paid  to  the  priest,  everything,  till  they 
came  to  the  house.  To  save  that  they  sent  out  to  the  streets 
and  begged  money  to  pay  the  alms  that  were  still  wanting. 
But  that  had  to  end,  of  course.  The  priests  wanted  the 
house,  and  they  got  it.  The  lady  and  her  two  daughters  are 
now  living  in  a  common  house  in  a  back  street  and  sewing 
for  a  living.  I  could  tell  you  a  good  many  more  stories  of 
the  same  kind." 

"I  think,"  said  the  visitor,  gathering  courage  from  his 
friend's  boldness  and  glad  to  relieve  himself  and  the  others 
from  the  strain  in  which  the  conversation  of  the  last  fifteen 
minutes  had  held  them,  "the  priests  do  catch  themselves 
sometimes  in  the  funniest  way  about  these  masses  for  the 
dead.  You  know  Don  Bartolo  Ortis?  Well,  he  is  rich,  you 
know,  and  so  is  his  brother,  Don  Miguel.  I  tell  you,  Don 
Bartolo  has  everything  fine  in  his  house;  they  live  like 
princes,  and  ride  in  a  carriage  worth  $1,000.  I  know  about 
it,  for  I  worked  on  his  hacienda  a  year.  Well,  his  mother 
had  been  dead  for  I  don't  know  how  many  years.  But  he 
and  Don  Miguel  were  still  paying  for  the  masses.  But  the 
curious  part  of  it  was  that  every  year  the  priest  asked  for 
more  than  he  had  received  the  year  before  for  the  masses  and 
the  candles  and  the  black  ribbons  and  the  holy  water.  Well, 
one  day  Don  Bartolo  and  the  old  priest  had  been  out  driving 
in  that  $1,000  carriage.  They  had  just  got  home  and  were 
standing  under  a  tree.  Two  or  three  of  us  hands  had  been 
gathering  tunas  and  were  standing  near.  The  priest  asked 
for  the  money  for  the  annual  mass." 


AN  EVENING  IN  MERCEDES'  HOME.  47 

'"But,  my  dear  father,'  said  Don  Bartolo  (you  know  he 
couldn't  be  anything  but  polite  if  he  tried),  'you  need  more 
money  each  year  than  the  year  before.  It  seems  that  the 
more  we  pay  the  deeper  in  she  goes.  I  think  for  her  sake 
we  had  better  not  pay  any  more. '  And  neither  he  nor  Don 
Miguel  ever  did  pay  another  cent;  I  heard  him  say  so  a  long 
time  afterwards." 

"Yes,"  said  Atanacio,  laughing,  "I  heard  of  a  wealthy 
gentleman  who  paid  for  eighteen  years  to  get  Ms  father  out. 
At  last  he  went  to  the  priest  and  said,  '  Father,  it  breaks  my 
heart  to  think  that  my  poor  father  is  still  suffering  in  purga- 
tory. Tell  me  how  much  it  will  cost  to  say  masses  enough  once 
for  all  to  release  him.'  The  priest  remained  very  thoughtful 
for  awhile  with  his  head  on  his  hand.  At  length  he  looked 
up  and  said,  'It  will  cost  $1,000.'  'Well,'  said  the  son,  'let 
the  masses  be  said  at  once. '  Then  there  was  flying  about  the 
cathedral,  and  pretty  soon  the  great  organ  was  set  agoing 
and  the  candles  were  lighted,  and  the  priests  with  their 
robes  on  were  at  the  altars,  and  the  boys  were  waving  the 
censers  of  incense,  and  the  gentleman  was  kneeling  and 
shedding  tears  in  abundance.  After  all  that  had  gone  on  for 
an  hour  or  two,  up  comes  the  priest,  and  he  says,  '  Well,  my 
dear  sir,  I  am  happy  to  inform  you  that  your  father  is  now 
delivered  from  purgatory.'  'And  is  there  no  danger  of  his 
ever  returning?'  asked  the  gentleman.  'None  whatever,' 
replied  the  priest.  The  gentleman  got  up  and  threw  his 
arms  around  the  priest  and  thanked  him;  and  then  he  walked 
off  and  left  him,  and  the  good  Father  is  waiting  to  this  day 
for  that  ^1,000.  I  suppose  the  gentleman  thought  he  had 
already  paid  him  enough  without  that. " 

And  so  story  followed  story;  but  neither  they  nor  the  loud 
laughter  with  which  they  were  accompanied  were  to  Merce- 
des' taste.  She  slipped  out  after  awhile  into  the  court,  trying 
not  to  hear  the  grunting  of  the  shabby  pigs,  that  were  tied 
by  her  aunt's  door  and  the  neighbors',  trying  not  to  see  the 
two  or  three  lean,  deformed  dogs  which  came  around  her. 
Once  she  stretched  her  clasped  hands  upward  towards  the 


48  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

sky,  and  an  inaudible  cry  wrenched  itself  from  her  suffering 
soul:  "O  God,  have  mercy  on  us!"  But  the  heavens  seemed 
brass  above  her;  the  darkness  settled  down  more  heavily  on 
her  spirit;  there  was  no  intimation  in  the  stars,  shining 
brightly  in  the  blue  sky,  no  hint  in  the  quivering  air,  that  a 
great  change  was  at  hand,  that  there  remained  to  her  only 
one  more  night  of  her  old,  hopeless  life. 

So  the  changes  in  our  lives  often  come.  And  sometimes 
we  do  not  recognize  them  even  when  they  come;  only  in  after 
years  we  can  look  back  and  say:  "That  was  a  turning  point." 


A  TELESCOPIC  GLIMPSE  OF  ROYALTY.  49 


CHAPTER  VI. 
A  TELESCOPIC  GLIMPSE  OF  ROYALTY. 

|N  a  pleasant  July  morning,  the  morning  after  the  visit  of 
Mercedes  and  her  aunt  to  the  chapel  on  the  hill,  two 
ladies  sat  in  their  cool  and  shaded  parlor. 

Perhaps  it  was  only  pleasant  in  that  parlor,  one  could  not 
imagine  that  it  was  ever  otherwise  there.  Even  if  you 
stepped  out  on  the  narrow  front  balcony  where  the  bright 
plumaged  parrot  was  screaming  and  scolding  and  laughing, 
you  were  beguiled  from  looking  at  the  hot  and  dusty  street 
by  the  sight  of  the  plaza  opposite,  it  was  so  cool,  so  shady, 
so  pretty  with  its  trees  and  rosebushes  and  other  shrubbery. 
You  could  see  and  hear  the  great  fountain  in  the  center,  from 
whose  topmost  basin  the  water  fell  in  showers  of  diamonds, 
continuing  its  downward  course,  from  basin  to  basin,  till  it 
reached  the  great  basin  whose  fluted  sides  were  painted  the 
national  colors,  red,  green  and  white.  Over  there,  too,  in 
full  view,  was  that  graceful  oriental  palm  tree,  so  suggestive 
of  cool  oases  and  sparkling  fountains  in  the  desert. 

This  parlor  was  in  the  second  story  of  the  house,  so  that 
the  noises  from  the  street  came  to  the  inmates  only  in  sub- 
dued undertones.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  individuality 
about  the  room,  or  rather  a  great  deal  of  two  individualities; 
but  they  were  so  beautifully  blended  and  harmonized  that 
one  could  not  discern  where  the  one  ended  and  the  other  be- 
gan. There  were  some  things  in  the  room  which  suggested 
a  love  for  literature,  music  and  the  fine  arts,  other  things 
which  were  equally  suggestive  of  a  love  for  the  beauties  of 
nature  and  the  practical  side  of  life.  But  none  of  these 
things — neither  the  books,  nor  the  pictures,  nor  the  music, 
nor  the  exquisite  fancy  work — ever  obtruded  themselves  on 
you;  you  only  had  a  feeling  that  they  were  there. 
4 


50  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

There  were  chairs  of  several  patterns  and  no  two  alike. 
The  dainty  wicker  rocking  chair  invited  you,  a  great  uphol- 
stered chair  held  out  its  arms  for  you,  a  pretty,  slender  camp 
chair  offered  its  services,  a  great  easy  sofa  assured  you  of 
comfort.  Here  and  there  on  the  low  tables  was  a  choice  book 
which  had  strayed  in  there  from  the  well-filled  bookcase  that 
you  knew  instinctively  was  somewhere  in  the  house.  Over 
the  windows  were  the  daintiest  and  softest  of  lace  curtains. 

•The  two  German  ladies  who  sat  in  this  room  were  in  keep- 
ing with  their  surroundings.  They  were  both  somewhere  in 
thirty.  One  of  them  contradicted  race  traditions,  for  .she 
had  dark  hair,  a  dark  complexion,  and  dark  eyes.  There  was 
an  independent,  practical  look  about  her,  in  her  quick  move- 
ments and  in  her  position,  whether  she  sat  or  stood.  Her 
thin  summer  dress  was  dainty,  to  be  sure;  one  enjoyed  look- 
ing at  it  from  the  collar  to  the  hem ;  but  it  was  evident  that 
the  principal  idea  of  the  wearer  in  designing  it  had  been  to 
secure  comfort  and  not  to  follow  the  latest  fashions. 

There  was  a  streak  of  contradiction  in  her.  If  you  re- 
marked that  the  bird  which  she  was  painting  on  the  velvet 
table  scarf  was  beautiful,  she  would  reply  in  the  most  non- 
chalant tone,  "No,  it  is  not  pretty,  but  it  suits  this  scarf. "  If, 
anxious  to  say  something  pleasant,  you  plucked  up  courage 
after  that  to  observe  that  it  must  be  a  difficult  and  tedious  task 
to  paint  it,  she  at  once  answered  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  was 
very  easy  indeed,  and  that  she  could  paint  it  in  an  hour  if  she 
tried.  If  you  even  said  it  was  pleasant  in  that  room,  she 
would  respond  that  of  course  one  could  expect  to  be  only 
comparatively  comfortable  in  there  when  it  was  so  hot  out- 
side. 

Yet  she  was  the  best  natured  of  people.  She  was  'a  very 
interesting  conversationalist  if  one  left  the  talking  entirely 
to  her.  She  would  give  him  quaint  sketches  of  travel  and 
and  descriptions  of  people  and  customs,  brightened  by 
gleams  of  humor  and  emphasized  by  her  own  vigorous  way 
of  putting  things.  She  had  a  delightful  way,  too,  of  keeping 
herself  entirely  out  of  her  narratives,  or  at  least  in  the  back- 


A  TELESCOPIC  GLIMPSE  OF  ROYALTY.  51 

ground.  You  only  felt  that  you  were  seeing  people  and 
things  through  the  eyes  of  an  original  and  practical  person. 

She  had  no  religion,  probably  because  she  knew  that  by 
having  none  she  could  contradict  more  people  than  she  could 
by  adopting  any  of  Jhe  many  forms  of  Christianity  or  pagan- 
ism. But  to  do  her  justice  the  tricks  and  shams  and  chicanery 
of  Roman  Catholicism  were  disgusting  to  her.  Its  wicked- 
ness and  greed  of  filthy  lucre  were  not  unknown  to  her 
either.  No  form  of  Protestantism  was  known  to  her  except 
Lutheranism,  and  of  it  she  had  never  heard  much.  So  far 
life  had  gone  smoothly  and  she  had  felt  little  need  of  religion. 

When  she  was  only  eighteen  she  had  come  alone  across  the 
ocean  to  marry  the  young  German  merchant,  who  had  pre- 
ceded her  a  year  or  two  to  make  a  home  for  her.  She  had 
three  children.  Her  two  eldest,  who  were  boys,  were  in 
school  in  Germany;  the  youngest,  a  fair,  winsome  girl  of 
thirteen,  was  with  relatives  in  the  United  States,  attending 
school.  In  the  loving,  practical  letters  which  she  sent  every 
week  to  her  children  one  found  the  best  expression  of  her 
character. 

The  other  lady  was  tall  and  fair,  with  blue  eyes  and  fluffy,, 
yellow  hair.  A  nameless  grace  of  manner,  as  undefinable  as 
the  faint  perfume  of  flowers,  a  gracjxmsness  which  was 
prompted  by  kindly  feelings  toward  high  and  low,  character- 
ized all  she  said  and  did;  they  would  have  made  her  a  charm- 
ing woman  even  if  her  face  had  been  homely. 

She  never  contradicted.  Neither  did  she  always  agree 
with  what  was  said.  If  it  was  a  matter  of  any  consequence 
about  which  she  differed  from  you  in  opinion  she  made  you 
feel  somehow  that  she  thought  differently,  but  with  perfect 
delicacy  and  charity  for  your  way  of  thinking,  and  with  not 
the  least  assumption  of  infallibility  on  her  part. 

She  was  a  Catholic;  she  told  you  so  in  a  perfectly  off-hand 
and  well-bred  way,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  course,  or  just  as 
she  would  say,  "I  am  a  German,"  but  with  a  little  intangible 
something  in  tone  and  manner  that  made  you  feel  that  she 
would  think,  if  she  should  think  anything  about  it,  that  it  was 


52  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

very  respectable  to  be  a  Catholic;  but  you  never  had  any 
fears  that  she  undervalued  you  for  differing  from  her  in 
religious  beliefs.  But  she  had  no  images  nor  altars,  except 
that  in  her  private  room  there  hung  a  silver- mounted  crucifix 
over  her  quaint,  old-fashioned  bed,  w^ich,  with  the  other 
furniture,  had  been  brought  from  the  old  country. 

She  went  to  church  sometimes,  but  rarely,  and  when  she 
did  go  it  was  more  to  hear  the  music  than  for  any  other  pur- 
pose. She  would  have  liked  to  hear  an  eloquent  sermon  now 
and  then  merely  for  the  eloquence  of  it.  She  never  had  any 
acquaintance  with  the  priests,  and  if  she  had  permitted  her- 
self to  have  a  poor  opinion  of  any  one  they  certainly  would 
have  been  among  those  unfortunate  persons. 

She,  too,  could  tell  delightful  stories  of  travel,  >but  there 
was  the  difference  between  her  narratives  and  those  of  her 
cousin  Gretchen  that  there  is  between  Longfellow's  "Outre 
Mer"  and  the  narration  of  a  brisk  business  man. 

Both  she  and  her  companion  were  very  popular  with  the 
Mexicans,  for,  besides  the  possession  of  all  the  social  and 
domestic  virtues,  they  were  accounted  to  be  ladies  of  great 
learning.  It  was  rumored  that  besides  their  native  German 
and  the  Spanish  language,  they  spoke  also  with  ease  and 
elegance,  French,  English  and  Italian;  and  some  were  even 
so-  wild  in  their  assertions  as  to  add  Greek  and  Latin. 
But  public  opinion  was  divided  on  this  latter  subject,  some 
affirming  that  only  the  tall,  fair  one  possessed  those  accom- 
plishments. 

They  numbered  so  many  ladies  of  the  best  society  among 
their  visiting  acquaintances  that  with  the  exception  of  the 
small  circle  of  their  most  intimate  friends,  they  seldom  called 
at  the  same  place  more  than  once  a  year;  though  to  tell  the 
truth  they  made  no  great  efforts  to  call  on  their  friends  often, 
contenting  themselves  with  saying,  "Come  to  see  us  when- 
ever you  feel  like  it;  we  are  always  glad  to  see  you.  But 
don't  wait  on  us;  we  have  so  many  acquaintances  we  find  it 
impossible  to  visit  them  all  often."  They  never  went  to  the 
Sunday  night  balls,  unless  they  had  guests  who  wished  to  go: 


A  TELESCOPIC  GLIMPSE  OF  ROYALTY.  53 

and  only  occasionally  did  they  go  to  the  more  select  enter- 
tainments. 

Frederica,  one  would  not  fail  to  learn,  belonged  to  a  highly 
respectable  family  in  Germany,  for  in  the  course  of  one's 
acquaintance  with  her,  some  day  when  he  was  looking  at  her 
photograph  album,  for  instance,  and  noticed  some  handsome 
young  gentlemen  in  uniforms,  she  would  remark  that  they 
were  her  nephews,  that  they  were  favorites  of  the  young 
prince,  the  heir  apparent  to  the  crown  of  the  empire,  that 
through  his  influence  they  had  been  admitted  to  the  best  uni- 
versities, and  that  recently  when  he  made  a  tour  through 
Bohemia  and  Hungary  he  had  selected  one  of  them  to  accom- 
pany him. 

Nor  was  that  all.  On  the  wall  hung  two  pictures  of  an  old 
castle  in  a  lake.  One  of  them  represented  it  as  it  looked  in 
summer,  the  other  as  it  looked  in  winter.  Part  of  it  was  in 
ruins,  but  part  of  its  massive  gray  walls  still  defied  time.  It 
was  built  by  Charlemagne,  and  he  had  lived  in  it  for  awhile, 
she  said. 

It  stood  near  Aix-la-Chapelle.  It  has  its  legend,  of  course. 
The  great  emperor  once  gave  to  his  fair  wife  a  ring,  telling 
her  that  he  would  never  forget  her  while  she  kept  it.  She 
died,  and  in  her  last  moments  she  secretly  put  the  ring  into 
her  mouth.  The  emperor  could  never  find  the  talisman,  but 
still  it  attracted  him.  He  had  her  body  placed  in  a  glass 
case  and  he  sat  all  the  time  by  her  side.  At  length  the 
bishop  found  the  ring,  and  took  it,  saying  nothing  to  his 
master  about  it. 

Then  Charlemagne  went  always  with  the  bishop — every- 
where—till he,  tired  of  his  royal  society,  threw  the  ring  into 
the  lake.  The  emperor,  under  -the  spell  of  the  enchantment, 
had  an  island  made  in  the  middle  of  the  lake  and  built  on  it 
this  castle  and  lived  in  it. 

Frederica  was  born  and  brought  up  in  this  castle  in  the 
midst  of  the  enchanted  lake.  As  one  listened,  and  looked 
from  her  to  the  picture,  and  from  the  picture  back  to  her,  he 
would  experience  something  like  the  feeling  of  the  woman. 


54  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

who  said  that  she  never  saw  Washington  Irving  herself,  but 
that  she  had  once  had  the  privilege  of  walking  out  of  church 
behind  a  woman  who  had  seen  him;  with  the  difference  that 
the  feeling  would  be  as  much  more  intensified,  as  royalty  is 
greater  than  genius.  And  such  royalty !  Ye  sun,  moon  and 
stars!  (as  Dickens  might  have  said),  think  of  a  woman  who 
was  brought  up  in  a  castle  of  Charlemagne's ! 

But  though  there  was  doubtless  in  her  heart  some  very 
natural  pride  in  the  aristocracy  of  her  family  of  which  this 
castle  was  to  her  a  representative,  her  womanly  grace  always 
saved  the  listener  from  any  painful  feeling  of  inferiority. 
He  was  always  ready  to  believe  that  she  had  shown  him  the 
pictures  and  given  him  all  the  information  about  her  family 
merely  because  they  were  matters  that  were  curious  and 
interesting. 

But  whatever  there  may  have  been  of  pride  in  her  heart, 
there  was  far  more  of  bitterness,  which,  however,  no  visitor 
ever  suspected.  The  shadow  of  this  castle,  representing,  as 
it  did,  the  high  respectability  of  her  family,  had  darkened 
her  life. 

When  she  was  about  twenty  years  old  she  had  loved  a 
young  gentleman  whose  family  was  equal  to  her  own  in 
wealth  and  respectability.  Her  love  was  returned  and  they 
were  betrothed:  The  prospective  marriage  was  very  agree- 
able to  both  families,  especially  to  the  relatives  of  Frederica, 
for  it  was  evident  that  Herr  Gaussen,  though  only  three  or 
four  years  older  than  herself,  would  soon  be  recognized  as 
one  of  the  leading  merchants  of  the  city  in  which  he  lived. 

But  just  when  things  were  at  this  happy  stage  Herr 
Gaussen  became  acquainted  with  the  Lutheran  religion, 
-examined  it,  and  adopted  it.  Then  there  was  wailing  in  both 
families.  That  one  who  was  anything  to  them  should  be 
infected  with  "that  heresy  of  Martin  Luther's"  seemed  to 
them  the  greatest  misfortune  and  disgrace  that  could  befall 
them.  But  in  vain  his  sisters  entreated  him,  in  vain  his  ele- 
gant mother  even  knelt  before  him  and  lifted  to  him  her  face 
bathed  in  tears,  pleading  by  the  respectability  of  his  family, 


A  TELESCOPIC  GLIMPSE  OF  ROYALTY.  55 

by  all  his  early  recollections,  by  her  mother-love.  With  all 
tenderness,  but  firmly,  he  told  her  that  Lutheranism  was 
more  in  accordance  with  the  Sacred  Scriptures  than  Roman- 
ism, and  therefore  he  must  be  a  Lutheran. 

Useless,  too,  were  the  remonstrances  of  Frederica's  family, 
her  own  tears  and  evident  suffering,  her  refusal  to  marry  him 
unless  he  would  return  to  the  fold  of  the  church.  One  even- 
ing they  stood  in  a  deep  window  overlooking  the  lake  on 
which  the  moonlight  was  dancing.  He  had  come  for  his 
final  answer.  She  had  believed  all  the  time  that  when  he 
saw  there  was  no  other  hope  of  their  marriage  he  would  return 
to  the  Church.  Such  obstinacy  was  unaccountable  to  her. 
But  as  the  restless  days  and  sleepless  nights  went  by  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  yielding,  hope  had  almost  died  in  her 
heart.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  he  suffered  no  less 
than  herself. 

* '  How  can  you  do  anything  which  brings  so  much  suffering 
to  us  all?  "  she  was  saying. 

"  I  cannot  do  otherwise,  as  I  believe  the  Bible,  the  Word  of 
God,  Frederica.  My  salvation  depends  upon  it. " 

"I  never  saw  a  Bible,  but  I  know  that  there  is  no  salvation 
outside  the  Church." 

' '  I  used  to  think  so,  but  I  have  learned  now  from  the  Word 
of  God  that  'the  just  shall  live  by  faith,'  and  not  by  the 
observance  of  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Roman  Church. 
Let  me  show  you  what  I  have  learned  from  the  Bible, 
Frederica;  you  cannot  fail  to  see  that  it  is  the  truth.  Will 
you  not?  " 

There  was  a  long  silence  while  the  girl  stood,  leaning 
against  the  window,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  A 
fierce  struggle  was  going  on  in  her  mind.  How  could  she 
give  up  his  love  and  the  joyful  prospects  which  had  bright- 
ened her  life  for  months?  But,  on  the  other  hand,  how  could 
she  bring  this  shame  on  her  family!  How  could  she,  a  young 
girl,  turn  against  the  religion  of  all  her  ancestors,  of  her  own 
father  and  mother! 

' '  Come,  Frederica, "  he  pleaded,  * '  let  me  show  you  that 


56  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Martin  Luther  taught  what  the  Revelation  of  God  teaches. 
It  is  an  honor,  and  not  a  disgrace  to  do  what  one's  Creator 
has  commanded." 

"I  can't.     O,  Wilhelm,  don't  ask  me! " 

"But  it  is  a  question,  not  only  of  our  happiness,  but  of  the 
salvation  of  your  soul.  Think  of  that. " 

"No,"  she  replied,  suddenly  raising  her  head  with  the 
feeling  that  she  could  bear  the  parting  and  the  never  seeing 
him  again  better  than  that  suspense  of  suffering;  "you  will 
not  return  to  the  Church;  then  I  can  never  marry  you." 

There  fell  another  silence  between  them.  At  last  he  said, 
taking  her  hand,  "  Good-bye,  then,  Frederica,"  and  he  kissed 
her  and  then  went  out.  And  his  face  was  almost  as  rigid 
and  white  in  the  moonlight  as  it  will  be  at  the  last. 

She  dragged  herself  up  to  her  room.  Many  a  night  since 
this  trouble  came  on  her  had  she  knelt  for  hours  before  the 
image  of  the  infant  Christ,  and  before  that  of  the  Savior  on 
the  cross — images  of  a  babe  and  a  dead  Savior — pleading 
with  them — not  that  she  might  be  shown  her  duty  that  she 
might  do  it — but  that  her  lover  might  return  to  the  Mother 
Church.  She  had  found  no  help  in  them,  nor  in  the  image  of 
the  Virgin.  She  did  not  even  look  at  them  to-night.  She 
dropped  into  a  great  arm  chair  and  sat  there  far  into  the 
night,  confused,  benumbed  by  suffering. 

As  the  days  went  by  there  came  into  her  heart  a  desperate 
desire  to  escape  from  her  childhood's  home,  so  full,  now,  of 
painful  associations,  to  escape  from  the  pitying,  loving  eyes 
of  her  sister,  from  those  unresponsive  images  of  the  infant 
and  crucified  Christ,  and  from  that  window  overlooking  the 
lake.  Some  distant  relatives  of  theirs  who  knew  nothing  of 
the  circumstances  were  just  then  about  to  start  on  a  tour 
through  Southern  Europe.  It  was  arranged  that  she  should 
accompany  them ;  her  sister  and  brother-in-law  believed  that 
a  change  would  be  the  best  thing  for  her. 

But  little  did  any  of  them  think,  not  even  she  herself, 
when  she  told  them  good-bye  with  tearless  eyes,  kissing  them 
with  burning  lips,  that  the  old  castle  would  never  be  her 
home  again. 


A  TELESCOPIC  GLIMPSE  OF  ROYALTY.  57 

Her  relatives  had  been  told  that  she  was  not  well,  and  that 
accounted  to  them  for  her  lack  of  interest  in  all  they  saw. 
Sometimes  the  thought  occurred  to  her,  as  she  looked  on  noble 
statues,  glorious  pictures  or  beautiful  landscapes,  that  she 
should  look  at  them  and  try  to  remember  them  for  the  sake 
of  the  years  to  come.  But  she  found  it  impossible  to  arouse 
herself  to  interest.  She  did  remember  most  of  them,  how- 
ever, and  some  of  them  with  startling  distinctness,  for  in  her 
morbid  state  of  mind  they  were  unnaturally  impressed  on  her. 

They  extended  their  tour  to  countries  which  they  had  not 
at  first  intended  to  visit.  But  even  in  foreign  cities  she 
walked  always  in  the  shadow  of  the  turrets  and  battlements 
of  Charlemagne's  castle;  it  always  seemed  to  her  that  she 
had  done  right  to  refuse  to  sacrifice  the  respectability  of  her 
family  by  marrying  one  of  another  religion. 

When  they  returned  home  she  insisted  on  remaining  in  one 
of  the  southern  cities  of  France,  ostensibly  to  perfect  her 
knowledge  of  French.  Later,  impelled  by  the  desire  to  have 
some  occupation  that  would  allow  her  less  time  to  think  of 
the  past,  she  became  a  teacher  in  a  girls'  school.  Years 
passed  and  she  still  refused  to  return  home.  Her  grief  and 
sense  of  loss  became  milder.  Only  now  and  then  these 
haunting  recollections  came  back  with  such  determination 
that  she  could  not  fight  them  off;  and  then  for  days  she  went 
about  like  one  in  a  dream.  But  she  was  always  a  gentle  and 
loving  mother,  as  well  as  teacher,  to  the  girls  who  were  in 
her  care.  Her  interest  in  life  came  back  for  their  sake;  there 
was  only  one  thing  that  saddened  her  in  connection  with 
them:  the  yearly  rending  of  heart  strings  as  they  passed  out 
of  the  school  forever. 

Herr  Gaussen  had  suffered,  too,  but  his  was  a  more  health- 
ful nature  than  hers.  His  religion  had  been  a  support  and 
consolation  to  him  hi  this  as  in  all  other  trials.  After  two 
years  he  had  married  a  sweet  Christian  woman.  His  early 
love  was  dead  or  latent. 

After  some  years  Frederica  was  persuaded  to  visit  her 
home.  During  the  three  or  four  painful  and  happy  weeks 
that  she  passed  in  her  sister's  home  she  wished  with  all  her 


58  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

Tieart  that  some  one  would  tell  her  something  of  Herr  Gaus- 
sen.  She  had  never  heard  anything  but  the  bare  fact  that  he 
was  married.  But  she  could  not  ask  or  ultimate  in  any  way 
that  she  wished  to  know.  She  would  have  prayed  for  it  if 
:she  had  had  anything  to  pray  to;  but  since  that  night  when 
the  images  had  failed  her  she  had  been  poorer  than  the 
heathen  themselves — she  had  not  even  had  an  idol.  And 
reared  as  she  had  been  she  had  no  hope  of  approaching  the 
invisible,  spiritual  God  without  the  intercession  of  a  saint. 

But  her  wish  was  to  be  gratified.  One  day  a  lady  was 
calling  on  her;  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  she  said, 
with  all  Innocence: 

"You  knew  Herr  Gaussen.  He  is  quite  a  wealthy  and 
prominent  merchant  now.  He  has  four  bright,  pretty  chil- 
dren, and  I  think  his  is  one  of  the  loveliest  and  happiest 
families  I  ever  saw." 

Frederica  started,  and  the  album  she  was  showing  to  the 
child  at  her  side  almost  slipped  from  her  lap,  but  she  quickly 
recovered  her  composure,  and  the  lady  went  on  to  speak  of 
other  matters. 

But  Frederica  had  come  to  feel  that  she  could  not  bear  the 
losing  of  the  girls  of  her  classes  every  year.  She  had  a 
cousin  in  Mexico ;  she  had  resolved  to  go  to  her.  Surely  among 
scenes  so  new  and  strange  she  would  not  think  much  of  the 
past.  She  was  a  welcome  inmate  in  her  cousin's  home.  But 
though  she  said,  during  these  years  that  she  was  a  Catholic, 
the  crucifix  that  hung  over  her  bed  was  no  more  to  her  than 
the  parting  gift  of  her  sister. 

She  was  contented  and  cheerful,  living  .much  for  the  hap- 
piness of  others.  Gretchen's  dainty  house  girls  were  always 
Frederica's  pupils.  Now  she  taught  needle  work,  painting 
or  music  to  some  poor  girl  who  could  not  learn  those  favorite 
branches  in  the  schools.  She  was  always  watching  for  some 
bright  girl  to  teach.  It  must  be  said  that  often  her  high 
hopes  of  them  were  disappointed,  owing  to  their  circum- 
stances or  their  lack  of  application,  but  she  always  recovered 
from  the  shock  and  was  ready  to  adopt  the  next  promising- 
looking  pupil  who  presented  herself. 


"THE  NEW  WASHERWOMAN'S  DAUGHTER.*  59 


CHAPTER  VII.  . 

1  'THE  NEW  WASHERWOMAN'S  DAUGHTER." 

I— ^REDERICA  sat  this  morning  at  the  piano,  carelessly 
\®  running  over  some  German  airs.  Presently  she  crossed 
the  room  to  where  her  cousin  sat,  and  taking  up  a  book,  said: 

"Well,  shall  we  finish  the  book  this  morning?  I  am  dis- 
posed to  read  if  you  care  to  listen. " 

The  lady  glanced  at  the  clock.  * '  I  think  not,  thank .  you. 
I  must  stop  directly  and  prepare  Oscar's  favorite  pudding  for 
dinner.  He  looked  worried  about  something  this  morning;  I 
must  do  something  to  at  least  show  him  that  I  am  sym- 
pathetic. " 

"O,  you  practical  soul!"  laughed  Frederica,  "the  idea  of 
comforting  the  good  man  with  a  pudding! " 

"Well,  it  isn't  the  pudding  exactly  that  comforts  him,  but 
the  feeling  for  his  vexations.  I  have  known  pastry  to  prove 
a  pretty  effectual  comforter,"  she  replied  pleasantly. 

She  put  aside  her  scarf  and  went  out  into  the  court.  The 
next  moment  she  opened  the  door  and  said: 

"Frederica,  here  is  your  new  washerwoman's  daughter 
with  the  clothes. " 

Frederica  stepped  out  into  the  upper  corridor  and  asked 
the  girl  to  follow  her  to  her  room.  Mercedes,  for  it  was  she, 
followed  her  into  the  spacious,  handsome  room;  with  its  pic- 
tures and  pretty,  graceful  ornaments  it  looked  like  fairy  land 
to  her.  The  clothes  were  counted,  the  money  was  paid,  and 
they  passed  out  again  into  the  corridor.  Frederica  had  been 
talking  kindly  all  the  time  to  the  girl.  Now  she  plucked  a 
geranium  and  gave  it  to  her,  saying,  "You  look  tired,  child." 
The  next  moment  Mercedes'  eyes  fell  on  the  book  which 
Frederica  had  laid  on  a  table  as  she  passed  to  her  room.  It 
was  Altamirano's  "Cuentos  de  Invierno"  (Whiter  Tales). 


60  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

She  had  heard  of  it  and  had  longed  to  read  it.  Eagerness 
flashed  from  her  face;  she  made  a  step  toward  the  table  and 
put  out  her  hand  to  grasp  it,  then  remembering,  she  stopped. 

"Do  you  like  to  read,  dear? "  asked  Frederica. 

' '  O,  yes,  Senora,  very  much. " 

"Have  you  ever  been  to  school? " 

"No,  Senora,  I  only  learned  at  home  by  myself." 

"Did  you  ever  read  a  book? "  asked  Frederica,  wishing  to 
continue  the  conversation. 

'  *  O  yes,  Senora,  I  have  read  Don  Quixote  three  times,  and 
some  parts  of  it  a  great  many  tunes.  And  I  have  read  the 
History  of  Mexico  three  times,"  replied  Mercedes,  feeling 
considerable  pride  in  her  achievements.  *  'And  besides  them, " 
she  added,  with  a  visible  loss  of  interest,  "I  have  read  the 
mass  book,  but  I  didn't  read  it  but  once. " 

The  lady  repressed  a  smile.  "Why  do  you  not  go  to 
school?  "  she  asked. 

The  girl's  face  clouded.  *  *  I  can't  go  to  school.  I  have  to 
stay  at  home  and  work." 

"But  your  mother  ought  to  send  you  to  school." 

"My  mother  is  dead.  I  live  with  my  aunt,  and  she  says 
the  priests  say  it  would  be  better  for  the  common  people  not 
to  know  how  to  read,"  she  said,  summoning  all  her  courage, 
but  still  feeling  that  she  was  guilty  of  high  treason.  "And 
besides  that,"  she  added  in  the  hopeless  tone  of  the  poor, 
"my  father  can't  afford  to  buy  me  suitable  clothes  to  wear  to 
school. " 

*  'Ask  your  father  to  let  you  come  here  and  study  with  me, 
and  we  will  see  if  we  can't  arrange  it  all. " 

The  pretty  court  down  below,  with  its  roses  and  geraniums, 
became  suddenly  indistinct  before  the  girl's  eyes,  and  she 
laid  her  hand  on  the  table  to  steady  herself.  Presently  she 
said,  in  a  choking  voice: 

' '  I  give  you  many  thanks,  Sefiora,  but  I  don't  think  anything 
can  be  done,"  and  if  she  had  dared,  she  would  have  added  to 
the  quaint  Spanish  way  of  thanking  her,  the  pretty  Spanish 
act  of  kissing  her  hand. 


61 

"Well,  ask  your  father  about  it,  and  never  mind  what  your 
aunt  says,  and  come  and  tell  me  to-morrow  morning,"  said 
Frederica  as  Mercedes  took  up  her  basket  to  go  home. 

"  I  will,  Sefiora.     Many  thanks.     Adios." 

"Adios,  Mercedes." 

And  the  girl  went  out  into  the  hot  and  dusty  street,  dazed 
at  the  good  fortune  which  had  been  offered  her,  but  not  at  all 
hopeful.  But  it  was  certain  that  whatever  came  of  it  this 
Dona  Frederica  would  be  to  her  always  almost  an  object  of 
worship.  "She  is  as  beautiful  as  an  angel,"  she  said.  " She 
looks  like  an  angel,  with  her  blue  eyes  and  yellow  hair;  and 
her  voice  is  sweet,  as  their's  must  be.  How  God  must  love 
her!" 

I  wonder  if  there  is  not  in  all  noble  souls  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  hero  worship! 

And  Frederica,  what  of  her?  It  was  not  a  new  experience 
to  her,  as  I  have  said.  But  this  girl's  dark  face  and  bright 
eyes,  with  the  eager,  hungry  soul  looking  out  of  them,  had 
attracted  her  more  than  any  other  had  ever  done. 

But  dinner  came,  and  then  visitors,  so  there  was  no  time 
to  think  of  her  new  protege"  till  she  sat  in  her  own  room, 
after  supper.  She  had  to  admit  the  truth  of  what  Gretchen 
had  laughingly  said;  she  ivas  the  shabbiest  specimen  she  had 
selected  yet.  But  her  face  was  bright,  and  then  that  look  in 
her  face  when  she  saw  the  book !  How  she  had  wished  for 
some  girl  to  educate  who  had  a  real  enthusiasm  for  learning! 
She  would  be  to  her  like  a  daughter;  perhaps  God  had  sent 
her  this  girl.  She,  too,  thought  of  God,  and  in  a  simple, 
natural  way.  Perhaps  they  would  do  each  other  good.  Her 
lips  quivered  and  her  eyes  were  a  little  moist. 

She  arose  quickly  and  went  to  a  wardrobe.  She  took  out 
two  or  three  summer  dresses  of  her  own.  Her  womanly  taste 
told  her  what  dainty  dresses  could  be  made  of  them  for 
Mercedes;  and  she  would  teach  her  to  braid  her  black  hair 
prettily  and  tie  jt  with  a  bright  ribbon.  Think  of  the  girl 
dressed  so,  and  bending  over  her  books!  She  would  be 
almost  pretty !  And  think  of  her  turning  that  bright,  olive 
face  towards  her's,  flushed  with  love  and  gratitude! 


62  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

*  *  Such  extravagant  notions ! "  something  said  to  her.  ' '  She 
will  soon  lose  all  interest  in  the  lessons,  and  go  back  of  her 
own  accord,  as  so  many  others  have  done,  to  the  prospect  of 
making  tortillas  and  cigarettes  all  her  life." 

She  had  no  idea  of  spoiling  Mercedes  by  dressing  her  up 
very  fine  at  first.  A  cheap,  but  neatly  made  dress,  a  new 
scarf  and  some  shoes  would  be  sufficient;  and  she  would  not 
waste  those  on  her  unless  it  really  seemed  that  she  was  going 
to  study. 

At  the  same  hour  a  storm  of  words  raged  fiercely  between 
Mercedes'  father  and  her  aunt.  The  latter,  of  course,  was 
violently  opposed  to  her  following  a  course  which,  she  was 
sure,  would  only  encourage  her  in  "idleness"  and  indifference 
to  the  Church.  The  former  had  seen  in  the  offer  of  the  Ger- 
man lady  a  gleam  of  hope  for  his  daughter  and  had  deter- 
mined that  she  should  avail  herself,  if  possible,  of  every  ad- 
vantage which  should  be  offered  her. 

The  girl  sat  meanwhile  on  a  chair  near  the  door,  scarcely 
daring  to  breathe,  her  hands  tightly  clasped,  her  eyes  big 
with  terror,  feeling  sure  she  made  more  trouble  in  the  world 
than  she  would  ever  be  worth. 

At  last  Atanacio,  tired  of  the  contest,  sprang  from  the  table, 
seized  the  whip  with  which  he  had  all  day  been  minding  the 
cattle  out  of  the  cornfield  and  proceeded  to  chastize  his  step- 
sister. Such  occurrences  as  this  were  not  so  uncommon  either 
in  his  house  or  in  those  of  his  neighbors  as  they  should  have 
been. 

After  she  was  silenced  he  ordered  them  to  go  to  bed.  Her 
father  has  gamed  his  point  and  Mercedes  rejoiced;  but  with 
trembling.  She  would  have  to  suffer  from  her  aunt  for  all 
the  instruction  which  she  would  receive  from  her  benefactress, 
but  any  price  seemed  small  to  her. 

The  next  morning  her  father  told  her  with  a  determined 
air  in  the  presence  of  her  aunt,  to  go  and  tell  Dofia  Frederica 
that  he  should  be  grateful  for  any  instruction  she  would  give 
her. 

After  an  hour's  talk  with  her  new  teacher  the  arrangement 


"THE  NEW  WASHERWOMAN'S  DAUGHTER."  63 

was  made  that  she  should  spend  two  hours  each  morning  at 
the  house  of  the  latter  reciting  and  reading.  Then  Mercedes 
went  home  to  the  tasks  of  the  day;  and  Prederica  put  on  her 
hat  and  gloves  and  went  down  the  street  to  the  little  book 
store  and  bought  a  small  grammar  and  arithmetic.  She  had 
a  geography  in  the  house  which  would  answer,  and  instead 
of  a  reading  book  she  would  have  her  read  selections  from 
Spanish  authors,  a  good  many  of  which  she  had  bought  for 
her  own  use. 

It  happened  that  on  her  way  home  she  passed  a  French 
store  and  saw  lying  on  the  counter  a  pile  of  pretty  dress  goods 
from  the  factory  in  the  town;  she  passed  resolutely;  but 
turned  back  and  selected  a  dress  and  a  neat,  dark  scarf  and  a 
pair  of  shoes,  reflecting,  meanwhile  on  her  own  weakness  and 
on  what  Gretchen  would  say. 

"But  of  course  I  can't  have  her  coming  to  the  house  as  my 
pupil  in  that  garb,"  she  said  to  herself  by  way  of  justification. 

Before  the  close  of  the  next  day  the  dress  was  finished. 
Unlike  most  of  the  dresses  for  girls  of  her  class  the  waist 
and  skirt  were  alike.  The  universal  scarf  or  shawl  being  so 
convenient  to  cover  defects,  there  is  much  carelessness  in  all 
ranks  on  this  point. 

Prederica  had  put  ruffles  of  red  hamburg  about  the  neck 
and  sleeves. 

"I  want  it  to  look  nice  you  know",  she  said,  "for  I  intend 
she  shall  leave  off  the  scarf  as  soon  as  she  enters  the  room. " 
She  was  very  fastidious,  this  Dofia  Prederica! 
.  "O,  I  expect  you  will  get  her  a  hat  before  another  week 
passes,  and  then  she  won't  need  the  scarf  at  all,"  replied 
Gretchen  with  a  smile. 

' '  No,  she  shall  never  wear  a  hat  if  I  can  have  my  way  about 
it.  I  very  much  admire  the  custom  here  of  going  with  the 
head  uncovered,  or  covered  only  with  the  scarf  or  shawl  or 
mantilla  when  they  are  necessary.  In  fact  I  have  never  seen 
any  covering  for  the  head  which  is  more  graceful  and  beautiful 
than  the  black  lace  mantillas;  and  then  think  of  the  expense  and 
worry  that  is  saved  by  going  without  hats!  Did  I  ever  tell  you 


<64  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

that  I  thought  before  I  came  here,  that  the  Mexican  ladies 
covered  their  faces  all  but  their  eyes  with  the  mantillas?  " 

"You  got  that  idea  from  stories  of  Spain,  I  suppose." 

In  a  day  or  two  Frederica  gave  the  dress,  shoes,  scarf  and 
other  neat  garments  to  Mercedes,  telling  her  to  wear  them 
when  she  came  for  her  lessons.  She  carried  them  home  and 
displayed  them  timidly  to  her  aunt  and  father.  The  former 
was  silent  and  sullen,  the  latter,  more  pleased  than  he  cared 
to  show. 

After  the  duties  of  the  following  morning  were  over  she 
arrayed  herself  in  the  new  clothing.  She  wondered  how  she 
looked,  but  with  the  sullen  eyes  of  her  aunt  on  her  she  could 
not  even  try  to  see  herself  in  the  tiny  looking-glass.  Her 
father  had  made  excuses  for  lingering  about  the  house  much 
longer  than  usual  that  morning  and  Mercedes  believed  in  the 
depths  of  her  fluttering  heart  that  his  object  was  to  see  her 
hi  her  new  dress.  At  first  he  pretended  not  to  hear  her  as 
she  gathered  up  her  books  to  start,  but  presently  he  looked 
around  and  there  flashed  into  his  eyes  a  look  of  tenderness 
which  his  daughter  immediately  added  to  her  other  precious 
recollections.  Both  he  and  she  were  embarrassed.  He  said 
nothing,  but  pretending  that  he  had  only  turned  to  get  his 
hat,  took  it  up  and  left  the  house. 

She  put  on  her  scarf  and  trembling  with  the  dread  of  en- 
countering the  neighbors'  eyes  passed  through  the  court. 
There  and  in  the  street  she  heard  from  women  and  girls  such 
comments  as,  "Look  at  Mercedes  Gonzales!"  "O,  how  fine!" 
"Isn't  that  Mercedes  Gonzales?  I  hardly  knew  her!"  There 
was  no  unkindness  meant;  but  the  remarks  cut  to  the  quick. 
To  the  day  of  her  death  she  remembered  that  walk  through 
the  court  of  her  home  and  the  street  on  which  she  lived  as 
one  of  the  severest  ordeals  of  her  life. 

Frederica,  however,  had  little  womanly  ways,  such  as 
leaving  her  alone  in  the  room  now  and  then  for  a  few  minutes 
that  she  might  become  familiar  with  her  surroundings,  and 
with  her  own  reflection  in  the  mirror.  As  the  weeks  and 
months  went  by,  besides  coming  to  feel  easy  in  that  fairy 


"THE  NEW  WASHERWOMAN'S  DAUGHTER."  65 

land  of  a  room,  and  the  neat  clothing  which  her  teacher  pro- 
vided her,  her  progress  in  her  studies  was  gratifying. 

She  entered  more  and  more  into  the  meaning  of  her  text- 
books as  she  advanced  from  one  to  another.  She  felt  the 
pleasure  of  learning,  the  delight  of  bringing  order  out  of  the 
chaos  of  her  ideas,  the  joy  of  finding  that  things  which  had 
seemed  complicated  and  difficult  were  simple,  the  happiness 
of  f  eeling  that  in  learning  more  and  more  of  the  works  of  the 
Creator,  one  is  becoming  better  acquainted  with  that  great 
Being  himself. 

As  she  imbibed  more  of  the  refined  ideas  of  her  teacher  and 
of  the  household  to  which  she  belonged,  the  coarseness  and 
hardness  of  the  life  in  her  own  home  became  even  more  dis- 
tasteful to  her.  Her  newly  acquired  conceptions  of  liberty 
and  justice,  and  her  faint  hope  of  escaping  sometime  from 
that  miserable  existence  made  her  bear  with  less  stoicism 
than  formerly  the  continual  annoyances  with  which  her  aunt 
harassed  her.  She  occasionally,  now,  flashed  up  into  fierce 
resistance  and  wrath. 

Of  course  if  I  were  telling  you  a  story  of  an  ideal  girl  I 
should  have  nothing  but  saintly  virtues  to  describe;  but  I  am 
telling  you  of  a  girl  in  whom  all  the  passions  of  human  nature 
were  very  strong.  All  I  can  say  in  her  justification  is  that 
after  each  of  these  not  very  frequent  fits  of  indignation,  when 
she  turned  on  her  aunt  with  the  f  eeling  of  a  wild  beast  at 
bay,  and  answered  her  with  hot  words  of  reproach,  she  always 
suffered  from  attacks  of  repentance,  made  more  torturing  by 
the  reflection  that  her  greater  advantages  ought  to  make  her 
more  forbearing. 

But  when  she  had  laid  aside  the  shabby  clothing,  and  ar- 
rayed in  dainty  garments,  had  turned  her  face  toward  the 
house  of  her  teacher,  her  feelings  might  well  have  been  ex- 
pressed hi  the  words  which  the  young  king  of  Israel  wrote  in 
the  golden  days  of  his  youth:  "The  winter  is  past,  the  rain 
is  over  and  gone;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth,  the  tune  of 
the  singing  of  the  birds  is  come."  With  Frederica  she  was 
gentle  and  gay,  bright  and  talkative. 
5 


66  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

CHAPTER  VIII 

"THAT  RELIGION  OF  RELIGIONS." 

e*TNHERE  was  one  person  with  whom  Mercedes  was  happier 
^  than  with  her  teacher.  From  the  very  day  on  which  she 
received  the  first  lesson  there  was  a  change  hi  her  father's 
manner  toward  her;  and  it  became  more  marked  as  the  months 
passed.  He  showed  a  gentleness  and  deference  toward  her 
that  was  touching.  She  became  familiar  with  subjects  of 
which  he  was  ignorant.  But  he  listened  with  the  greatest 
interest  as  she  told  him  with  enthusiasm  of  the  poems  of 
Lope  de  Vega,  and  of  Sor  Juana  Inez  de  la  Cruz,  of  the  musical 
sentences  of  Altamirano,  the  exquisite  humor  of  Ochoa  or 
the  4 '  eternal  ideas  "  and  ' '  infinite  sadnesses  "  of  the  ' '  golden 
mouthed"  Castelar. 

On  Sundays  after  the  early  mass,  on  great  religious  or 
national  feast  days  he  sometimes  asked  her  to  walk  with  him 
on  the  hills.  Now  they  went  to  the  little  chapel  for  the 
view,  now  to  the  Secacion,  a  steep  hill  back  of  the  town. 

One  afternoon,  about  three  years  after  Mercedes'  first 
acquaintance  with  Frederica,  they  stood  together  on  this  hill. 
She  was  much  taller  than  she  was  that  morning  when  she 
went  to  the  house  of  her  teacher  to  receive  her  first  lesson; 
and  her  longer  dresses,  and  her  glossy  black  hair  arranged 
in  a  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head,  gave  her  the  appearance  of 
a  young  lady. 

Looking  up  from  the  streets  of  the  town  one  might  have 
seen  the  two  figures  sharply  outlined,  standing  like  statues 
against  the  blue  sky. 

"Papa,"  said  the  daughter,  after  panting  a  little  from  the 
hard  climbing  to  the  top,  and  looking  up  fondly  into  the  face 
which  had  grown  rapidly  older  in  the  last  three  years,  "are 
you  tired?  It  seems  to  me  you  get  tired  much  more  quickly 
now  than  you  used  to  do." 


"THAT  R&LIGION  OF  RELIGIONS."  67 

"Yes,  daughter,"  he  replied  with  affected  indifference,  and 
turning  away  his  head,  "I  am  growing  older,  you  know." 

"And  very  rapidly,  from  exposure  and  hard  work,"  thought 
Mercedes,  with  a  sharp  pang.  But  she  added  aloud,  ' '  Dona 
Frederica  says  that  I  am  getting  along  well  with  my  studies. 
I  do  hope — I  think  of  it  all  the  time — that  some  day  I  can 
teach  or  do  something  of  that  kind  and  make  money  and  pay 
those  terrible  debts.  And  then  you  shall  rest  and  I  will  work 
for  you.  We  will  have  our  home,  just  you  and  I.  Just  think 
how  nice  it  will  be,  with  the  floor  swept  clean  and  the 
chairs  and  tables  shining  with  paint.  And  you  shall  have 
your  merienda  of  chocolate  every  afternoon,  and  your  ldesayuno 
every  morning,  just  like  a  Seflor." 

"Ah,  child,"  he  replied  gloomily,  "there  is  little  hope  of 
paying  the  debts.  It  is  best  not  to  build  too  fine  air  castles. " 

The  girl  knew  it,  but  she  was  young  and  hopeful,  and  as 
her  eyes  wandered  off  to  the  hills  the  momentary  sinking  of 
heart  was  forgotten. 

Her  father  aroused  her  from  her  reverie  by  saying  abruptly, 
as  if  following  a  train  of  thought: 

"Mercedes,  I  don't  want  you  ever  to  confess  to  the  priests. 
I  don't  want  you  ever  even  to  speak  to  one  of  them  if  you  can 
help  it;  for  they  are  very  wicked  men.  But  you  can  go  to 
mass  if  you  want  to;  your  mother  always  went." 

She  noticed  that  he  never  said  whether  her  mother  con- 
fessed, and  she  was  always  careful  not  to  ask. 

"Well,  papa,  I  am  a  Catholic;  of  course,  I'm  that,"  she 
replied,  her  eyes  f easting  on  the  marvelous  effects  of  light 
and  shade  on  the  opposite  mountains,  ' '  you  could  not  imagine 
me  becoming  a  disciple  of  Martin  Luther's,  could  you?"  she 
added  with  a  gay  laugh. 

' '  But  I  don't  believe  that  images  can  work  miracles,  nor 
that  the  priests  can  forgive  sins;  that  is,  that  they  can  for- 
give them  as  a  great  many  people  believe  they  can,"  she 
explained,  a  mystical  look  coming  into  her  eyes. 

' '  Of  course,  they  can't  forgive  sins,  Mercedes.    Would  God 

lNote. — A  light  meal  of  chocolate  and  bread  which  gentlemen  and  ladies 
take  before  rising. 


68  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

give  such  power  as  that  to  the  worst  of  his  creatures  that 
ever  walked  the  earth?  " 

"But  you  know,  papa,  that  the  Lord  did  say  to  St.  Peter, 
the  first  pope  of  Rome,  *  I  will  give  unto  thee  the  keys  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven;  and  whatsoever  thou  shalt  bind  on  earth 
shall  be  bound  in  heaven,  and  whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  on 
earth  shall  be  loosed  in  heaven.' ' 

"Yes,  I  know  the  priests  say  that,  and  I  suppose  they  got 
it,  as  they  say  they  did,  from  the  Sacred  Scriptures  they 
sometimes  mention.  But  they  are  such  liars  one  never  knows 
what  to  believe  of  what  they  say.  And  they  take  care  that 
nobody  else  sees  those  Sacred  Scriptures.  Perhaps  if  we 
knew  all  that  is  said  in  them  on  the  subject  it  would  not 
mean  what  it  appears  to  when  they  quote  it  to  us." 

1 '  But  I  don't  believe  what  they  teach.  I  believe  in  '  that 
religion  of  religions  which  is  Castelar's.' ' 

This  is  the  form  of  Catholicism  which,  it  seems,  is  pro- 
fessed by  most  of  the  educated  men  of  the  country  who  have 
not  rejected  religion  altogether. 

"And  what  does  he  teach  about  religion?  "  asked  Atanacio, 
repressing  a  smile  at  this  high-sounding  announcement  of  his 
daughter's  creed. 

' '  He  speaks  with  scorn  of  the  wickedness  and  greed  of  the 
priesthood,  and  he  compares  Catholic  Italy  with  Protestant 
Switzerland,  and  certainly  not  by  way  of  complimenting  the 
influence  of  Catholicism  in  Italy.  But  he  does  not  like  the 
Protestants,  for  all  that.  He  says  that  '  the  pagan  religion 
will  preserve  the  conscience  more  alive  and  its  jurisdiction 
over  one's  life  better  than  Protestant  pietism. ' 

* '  He  speaks  with  disdain  of  the  doctrine  of  the  sinlessness 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  with  withering  contempt  of  that  of 
the  infallibility  of  the  pope.  He  says  that  in  Rome  *  pagan- 
ism has  been  transformed  and  not  destroyed, '  and  he  goes  on 
to  show  how  a  great  many  ceremonies  and  observances  of 
the  Catholic  Church  are  only  a  continuation  of  those  of  the 
heathen  Romans.  He  says  that  'hell  is  a  pagan  creation, 
and  the  demons  are  the  creation  of  magic,  that '  the  apotheo- 


THAT  RELIGION  OF  RELIGIONS."  69 


- 


sis  of  the  heroes  has  been  replaced  by  the  canonization  of 
the  saints, '  that  revelations  were  not  made  to  the  Jews  alone, 
that  the  sybil  of  Cumas  conceived  the  idea  of  the  coming  of 
the  Messiah  in  the  very  days  in  which  Daniel  was  counting 
on  his  fingers  the  weeks  of  years  which  must  pass  before  the 
fulfillment  of  that  prophecy.  He  says  that  Virgil  foretold  the 
coming  of  Christ  as  well  as  Isaiah,  and  that  'Athens  with  her 
arts,  Rome  with  her  right,  Alexandria  with  her  science,  have 
contributed  as  much  to  Christian  revelation  as  Jerusalem 
with  her  God. '  And  he  says  that  revelations  have  not  ceased. 
I  don't  understand  it  all,  of  course,  but  it  is  all  very  mystical 
and  beautiful,  and  all  clothed  in  language  as  poetic  and  gor- 
geous as  a  sunset." 

"Well,  that  may  all  be  very  fine,  but  it  sounds  to  me  more 
like  the  talk  of  a  heathen  than  of  a  Christian." 

' '  O  no,  he  is  a  Catholic,  but  not  like  these  common  Catho- 
lics, you  know.  I  don't  think  he  believes  the  priests  can  for- 
give sins  as  they  IJelieve  it.  At  least  he  tells  scornfully  of  a 
priest  whom  he  saw  sitting  in  a  church  in  Rome,  forgiving 
the  sins  of  the  people  who  knelt  before  him  by  'giving  each  a 
tap  on  the  head  with  a  staff,  '  as  if  he  were  fishing  on  dry 
land.'  And  he  says,  though  he  is  a  Catholic,  that  'society, 
science  and  life  travel  one  road,  and  Catholicism  another  com- 
pletely opposite. '  I  don't  understand  it  all,  as  I  said,  but  I  love 
to  read  his  books  for  their  eloquence.  I  have  read  some 
parts  of  them  a  great  many  times.  He  writes  very  beauti- 
fully of  the  blessed  Virgin,  and  his  thoughts  of  her  are  con 
nected  with  the  most  precious  memories  of  his  childhood  and 
with  'the  sweet  face  of  his  mother.'  You  should  read  his 
description  of  the  singing  of  the  Miserere  in  St.  Peters.  The 
candles  are  all  extinguished  or  hidden,  and  the  white  statues 
seem  in  the  fading  daylight  to  start  from  their  places,  as  the 
music,  solemn  and  penetrating,  resounds  under  the  great 
dome  and  among  the  high  arches.  It  must  be  sublime! "  and 
her  voice  trembled  with  emotion  as  she  spoke.  In  her  lone- 
liness she  was  glad  to  find  some  one  to  whom  she  could  talk 
of  her  favorite  books,  some  one  whom  she  could  trust  not  to 


70  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

% 

laugh  at  her,  no  matter  how  ridiculous  her  flights.  Her 
spirit  was  still  going  up  and  down,  you  see,  seeking  rest  and 
finding  none. 

It  was  a  very  fine  religion  which  she  had  adopted,  but 
would  it  stand  by  her  in  the  day  of  trial? 


And  the  day  of  trial  was  at  hand.  A  few  days  after  this 
walk  on  the  hill  Atanacio  came  home  one  night  later  than 
usual,  looking  so  weak  and  pale  that  his  daughter  sprang 
toward  him  with  the  cry:  "O,  papa,  what  is  the  matter?" 

''I'm  very  sick,  daughter.  Let  me  lie  down  as  soon  as 
possible." 

His  pallet  was  quickly  made  and  he  lay  down.  He  yielded 
without  resistance  to  Mercedes'  proposition  to  send  for  a 
doctor.  Mordicai  was  absent,  so  she  ran  to  ask  the  husband 
of  Cipriana  to  go  for  a  physician. 

Before  he  arrived  the  sufferer  had  told  them,  as  his  breath, 
shortened  by  pain  would  allow,  that  he  had  become  over- 
heated, running  after  cattle  which  had  gotten  into  the  corn- 
field, and  while  he  was  in  that  condition  a  sudden  rain  had 
come  up  and  wet  him  thoroughly. 

There  are  in  Mexico  no  fences,  and  the  cattle  which  are 
allowed  to  run  in  the  country  are  kept  out  by  the  laborers 
whose  business  it  is  to  stand  guard  around  the  fields.  This 
is  a  more  economical  arrangement  than  the  building  of 
fences,  as,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  northern  part  of 
Mexico  is  thinly  settled,  men  are  more  numerous  than  trees. 

The  physician  pronounced  the  disease  pneumonia.  He 
returned  every  day  only  to  find  the  patient  worse  and  the 
daughter  nearer  wild  with  distress.  One  evening  she  slipped 
out  after  him  and  spoke  to  him  in  the  court: 

"Doctor,  my  father  is  very  sick,  isn't  he?"  she  said,  mak- 
ing a  great  effort  to  control  her  emotion. 

"Yes,  daughter,"  he  replied,  looking  at  her  pityingly. 

"Oh,  Doctor,  can't  you  do  anything  for  him? " 


"THAT  RELIGION  OP  RELIGIONS."  71 

' '  All  that  can  be  done  now  is  to  send  for  the  priest.  Poor 
child,"  he  added,  "he  is  all  you  have  in  the  world." 

Is  there  a  nation  in  the  world,  I  wonder,  in  which  the 
physicians — these  men  who  see  so  much  of  the  awful  suffer- 
ing which  sickness  and  death  bring  to  human  beings — have 
not  tender  hearts. 

Mercedes  gazed  at  him  in  agonized  silence  till  she  fully 
comprehended  the  terrible  meaning  of  his  words,  then  she 
gasped: 

"Oh!  Doctor,  have  you  told  him?" 

"Yes,"  he  said  gently;  and  then  casting  about  in  his  mind 
for  some  word  of  consolation,  and  lighting  on  a  sentence 
which  he  had  heard  quoted  by  deathbeds,  he  said,  "Remem- 
ber that  the  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  takes  away." 

Mercedes  looked  at  him  blankly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turned  and  went  into  Cipriana's  house.  No  one  was  there, 
and  she  dropped  on  her  knees  by  a  chair  and  sobbed: 

"O  blessed  Virgin,  spare  him.  O  most  holy  Mother  of 
God,  only  consolation  of  mankind,  intercede  for  us ! " 

She  arose,  striving  to  calm  herself,  and  went  into  the  room 
where  her  father  lay.  More  than  a  dozen  sympathetic  neigh- 
bors were  gathered  there.  As  she  entered  they  made  way  for 
her  to  pass  to  the  sick  man's  pallet.  Maria  de  los  Angeles  was 
by  his  side,  noisy  and  selfish  in  her  grief. 

"Oh!  Atanacio,  what  shall  I  do,"  she  was  saying,  "where 
shall  we  live  when  you  are  gone?  And  my  poor  Mordicai  away 
from  home!  O,  what  shall  I  do!  What  shall  I  do!  And  your 
poor  sool!  your  poor  soul  will  be  lost,  for  you  never  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Holy  Mother  Church.  Oh! 
Atanacio,  let  me  send  for  the  priest,  so  he  may  prepare  you 
to  die.  Well,  let  me  put  this  scapulary  on  you,  so  the  Father 
will  send  the  holy  angels  to  ta*ke  you  to  heaven,"  she  went  on 
in  a  persuasive  tone,  as  the  patient  shook  his  head  at  the 
mention  of  the  priest. 

Mercedes  knelt  by  the  pallet  and  gently  pushed  away  her 
aunt's  hand,  in  which  she  held  the  scapulary,  some  gray  flannel 
scraps  an  inch  square  on  which  were  some  stitches  in  woolen 


72  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

thread,  saying:  "No,  aunt,  no,  don't  trouble  him  with  them 
now. " 

The  sick  man's  eyes  had  been  wandering  restlessly  about 
the  room  till  they  had  rested  on  his  daughter.  The  awful 
agony  of  a  soul  that  looks  into  the  darkness  beyond  death 
had  seized  him,  but  still  even  in  that  supreme  moment,  he 
felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  speak  of  something  else: 

"Mercedes,"  he  gasped  hoarsely,  and  with  many  pauses, 
* '  when  I'm  go — when  I'm  not  here  any  longer  to  take  care  of 
you,  ask  Dofia  Frederica  to  find  you  something  to  do.  And 
tell  her  I  blessed  on  my  death-bed  for  her  kindness  to  you." 

Mercedes  thanked  God  that  he  did  not  know  that  her  aunt 
had  said  to  her  during  these  last  terrible  days  that  '  *  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  her  father  she  would  have  to  sell 
vegetables  in  the  market  for  a  living. " 

"And,  daughter,"  he  continued,  tightening  his  grasp  on 
her  hand,  "the  debts,  never  mind  the  debts.  Don't  ever  try 
to  pay  them.  A  young,  helpless  girl  could  never  do  it.  And 
they  have  been  paid  over  and  over  in  the  lives  of  your  kin- 
dred." 

His  eyes  closed  and  his  face  relaxed  from  exhaustion,  or 
perhaps  it  was  one  of  those  sudden  changes  that  we  have  all 
noticed  on  the  faces  of  the  dying,  a  sure  presage  of  the  approach 
of  the  last  enemy.  An  awful  anxiety  weighed  on  the  daugh- 
ter's mind  compared  with  which  the  thought  of  what  was  to 
become  of  her  was  of  little  importance.  And  the  tune  was 
so  short;  she  must  speak,  if  he  would  only  awake  again  from 
that  stupor! 

Presently  he  opened  his  eyes  again.  He  was  restless  and 
fumbled  with  the  covers  and  talked  incoherently.  But  when 
his  eyes  found  her  he  grew  calm  again. 

"  Oh !  papa, "  she  sobbed  tremulously,  '  *  are  you  going  alone? 
Have  you  no  hope  of  salvation?  " 

"Do  you  believe  there  is  a  God,  Mercedes?  "  he  asked,  his 
face  twitching  convulsively. 

"Oh!  yes,  papa,  I  believe  there  is  a  God." 

"But  you  don't  believe  there  is  a  hell.  You  said  so  the 
other  day. " 


"  THAT  RELIGION  OP  RELIGIONS."  73 

1 '  Oh !  I  don't  know,  papa,  I  don't  know.  There  may  be  a 
hell.  Oh!  papa,  ask  the  Blessed  Virgin  to  plead  with  her 
Son  for  you.  Look  at  the  crucifix,  papa,  and  plead  for  mercy.  "" 
Maria  had  placed  a  crucifix  on  a  table  at  the  foot  of  the  pal- 
let, with  two  lighted  candles  before  it.  He  turned  his  eyes, 
toward  the  crucifix  but  no  hope  brightened  them.  Again  he 
fumbled  at  the  covers  and  talked  incoherently.  When  he 
was  calm  again  the  daughter  asked: 

' '  Papa,  may  I  send  for  the  priest  that  he  may  give  you  ab- 
solution and  the  extreme  unction?  " 

4 'There  is  no  hope  in  that,  daughter."  But  he  added,  as 
he  noticed  her  agonized  face,  ' '  if  it  will  be  any  comfort  to 
you  you  may  send  for  him. " 

It  was  about  an  hour  later  when  the  priest  arrived.  The 
bystanders  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  had  been  drinking  and 
that  he  was  in  a  bad  humor.  They  made  room  for  him  to 
pass  and  he  stalked  to  the  foot  of  the  pallet,  and  stood  look- 
ing sullenly  at  the  sick  man. 

"Papa,"  said  Mercedes,  bending  over  her  father,  who  had 
been  asleep  or  in  a  stupor  for  some  time,  * '  Papa,  the  Father 
is  here. " 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her  intelligently  a  mo- 
ment, then  turned  them  on  the  figure  in  the  long  black  robes. 
The  sensual  face  was  quite  familiar  to  him. 

"Yes,"  said  the  priest,  in  a  taunting  tone,  "you  managed 
to  live  without  me  but  when  you  come  to  die  you  are  not 
above  sending  for  me. " 

The  dying  man  was  far  out  in  the  waters  of  the  Jordan, 
with  the  terror  in  his  soul  of  the  '  *  something"  which  awaited 
him  on  the  other  side,  but  the  insulting  words  reached  him. 
Something  like  his  former  spirit  flashed  into  his  eyes;  he 
raised  his  head  and  glared  at  the  insolent  face  before  him  as 
he  replied  in  a  hoarse  voice:  "You  go  home  to  your  wine. 
I  will  confess  to  God." 

He  dropped  back  on  his  pallet  exhausted.  The  Reverend 
Father  strode  out  of  the  room  well  pleased  to  be  relieved 
from  the  performance  of  a  duty  for  which  he  was  to  receive 


74  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

no  money.  He  was  followed  by  the  muttered  indignation  of 
the  men  and  the  wails  of  the  women. 

Atanacio  did  confess  to  God  as  that  can  be  done  by  a  dying 
man  racked  with  pain,  delirious  at  times,  and  with  the  terror 
of  death  and  of  the  judgment  in  his  soul.  What  a  place  is 
a  death-bed  to  prepare  to  meet  God!  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
say  that  he  found  salvation.  It  is  doubtful  whether  he  had 
ever  known,  even  in  his  most  rational  moments,  enough  of 
the  plan  of  salvation  to  save  a  soul.  To  him  Christ  had  al- 
ways been  represented  as  an  angry  judge;  and  he  had  always 
heard  that  it  was  only  through  the  intercession  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  that  any  good  could  come  to  mankind.  As  an  object  of 
honor  and< worship  she  was  placed  above  the  Trinity.  Every 
day  in  Mexico  people  are  going  into  eternity  hopeless,  con- 
fused, lost  forever,  because  of  these  teachings  of  the  Church 
of  Rome. 

An  hour  after  the  departure  of  tho  priest  he  aroused  from 
the  stupor  in  which  he  had  lain  for  a  few  minutes  and  tight- 
ening his  grasp  on  his  daughter's  hand,  called  feebly:  . 

"Mercedes." 

She  bent  over  him  and  caught  his  words  as  his  stiffening 
lips  uttered  them: 

"Adios.  You  must  not  grieve  for  me.  DofLa  Frederica 
will" — but  he  was  gone. 


WE  ALL  HAVE  A  MOTHER — THE  EARTH."  75 


CHAPTER  IX. 

-Victor  Hugo. 

PRESENTLY  Cipriana  led  Mercedes  gently  away  and  the 
neighbors  of  the  dead  man  prepared  him  for  burial.  When 
she  returned  after  daylight  to  the  room  the  lifeless  body 
dressed  in  clean,  coarse,  white  clothing  had  been  extended  on  a 
rude  bed  or  scaffold  lent  by  one  of  the  neighbors.  The  crucifix 
and  some  images  had  been  placed  on  the  bed  and  there  were 
two  lighted  candles  at  the  foot  and  two  at  the  head. 

No  religious  services  were  to  be  thought  of,  for  a  funeral 
would  cost  more  than  so  poor  a  family  could  pay,  and  the 
Catholic  priests  of  Mexico  are  not  shepherds  who  administer 
^consolation  to  the  members  of  their  flocks  "  without  money 
and  without  price."  The  confession  and  the  extreme  unction 

Note. — I  attended  the  funeral  of  a  boy  whose  mother,  though  well  con- 
nected, was  unable  to  pay  the  priest  for  his  services.  His  presence,  his 
mumbled  incantations,  so  to  speak,  the  holy  water  and  other  things  of 
the  kind,  would  have  been  a  great  consolation  to  her. 

"  Why  is  the  Senor  Cure  (the  cure  or  curate,  the  principal  priest)  not 
here?  "  I  asked  of  a  sister-in-law  of  the  bereaved  mother,  the  wife  of  a 
relative  of  the  priest. 

"O,  poor  Carolina  could  not  pay  him,  you  know." 

They  did  the  best  they  could  without  him.  There  was  an  abundance 
of  crucifixes,  images,  candles,  and  flowers  in  vases  large  and  small,  and 
lying  loose  about  the  white  bed  on  which  lay  the  marble  form.  The 
president  of  the  college,  who  was  also  the  superintendent  of  the  public 
school  to  which  the  dead  child  belonged,  came,  bringing  all  his  pupils 
marching,  and  each  carrying  his  flag  of  the  national  colors.  They  filed 
into  the  room  and  stood  around  the  bier. 

A  pine  coffin,  unusually  deep,  and  covered  with  cheap  pale  blue 
worsted,  stood  by  the  bier.  It  was  not  lined,  and  as  I  looked  at  the 
unpainted  boards  I  shuddered  at  the  thought  that  the  form  of  my  little 
English  pupil  was  to  be  placed  In  that  hard  resting  place.  But  I  was 
mistaken.  They  filled  a  third  of  its  depth  with  wheat  bran,  put  a  snowy 


76  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

are  free,  but  that  is  because  the  priests  expect  to  be  paid  for 
them  when  they  are  paid  for  the  funeral  and  the  masses  which 
are  to  follow. 

The  lonely  watcher  on  the  Orilla  del  Agua  sat  by  the  humble 
bier,  her  black  shawl  falling  over  her  statue  like  face,  her 
eyes  wide  open  and  tearless,  fixed  on  the  lifeless  features  be- 
fore her.  Kind  neighbors  came  and  went  but  she  knew  little 
of  it.  Cipriana's  husband  notified  the  civil  judge  of  Atanacio's 
death  and  made  the  arrangements  for  his  burial.  The  only 
survivor,  a  young  daughter,  the  judge  was  informed,  was  too 
poor  to  pay  either  the  $.25  asked  by  the  law  of  the  poor  for 
the  registering  of  a  death  or  the  $.50  for  the  grave;  so,  accord- 
ing to  the  law,  he  had  them  for  nothing. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  they  brought  in  the  box  in 
which  they  were  to  carry  the  body  to  the  cemetery.  It  was 
not  a  coffin — it  was  the  andas — a  pine  box  with  rods  on  each 
side  by  which  to  carry  it.  It  was  kept  in  the  cemetery  for 
the  purpose  of  conveying  in  it  to  the  grave  the  bodies  of  those 
whose  friends  were  to  poor  to  afford  coffins. 

Mercedes  saw  them  lay  him  in  the  andas  and  then  as  she 
bent  over  him.  and  laid  her  face  against  his  cold  face  a  wail 

sheet  over  it  and  then  laid  the  little  body  on  the  soft  bed.  They  put  in 
the  banner  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  carry  in  the  processions  of 
his  school  fellows  on  the  great  national  holidays,  on  the  5th  of  May  and 
the  16th  of  September,  and  then  filled  up  the  coffin  with  white  flowers, 
leaving  visible  only  the  little  white  face.  A  young  man  of  the  college 
made  a  speech  composed  for  the  occasion,  telling  in  glowing  terms  of 
the  superlative  virtues  of  their  young  friend,  and  assuring  his  com- 
panions that  because  of  his  good  conduct  he  was  now  enjoying  indescrib- 
able happiness  at  the  right  hand  of  God;  to  which  happiness  they  them- 
selves would  attain  if  they  would  follow  in  his  footsteps. 

After  that  was  over  and  the  relatives  and  friends  had  taken  a  last 
look,  the  coffin  was  placed  in  a  hearse,  two  boys,  one  on  either  side  of 
the  vehicle,  took  each  in  his  hand  an  end  of  the  long,  pale  blue  ribbon 
which  was  attached  to  the  lid  of  the  coffin,  and  the  hearse  moved  slowly 
through  the  streets  to  the  cemetery  followed  by  the  gentlemen  and  boys. 
Women  do  not  often  attend  burials  in  this  part  of  Mexico.  Without 
further  ceremony  the  coffin  was  placed  in  the  grave,  the  earth  was 
thrown  in  and  heaped  up  and  rounded  into  a  mound  like  those  which 
are  so  sadly  familiar  to  us  all. 


"WE  ALL  HAVE  A  MOTHER — THE  EARTH."  77 

of  anguish  broke  from  her  lips  which  brought  tears  to  the 
«yes  of  all  the  bystanders.  She  wondered  vaguely  if  the  sep- 
aration would  kill  her,  and  perhaps  wished  that  it  might. 
One  of  the  women  lifted  her  up  and  led  her  gently  away,  and 
the  men,  closing  the  box  slightly,  lifted  it  on  their  shoulders 
and  bore  it  through  the  doorway,  and  through  the  court,  and 
through  the  great  front  entrance,  and  along  the  street  to  the 
cemetery,  to  the  department  for  the  poor. 

There  a  grave  had  been  prepared,  a  grave  which  appeared 
to  be  too  short  by  a  foot  for  the  form  of  the  man  they  bore. 
But  at  the  bottom  there  was  an  excavation  to  receive  the 
head  so  that  the  clods  might  not  fall  on  the  face.  They  lifted 
the  body  from  the  anda,s,  lowered  it,  and  placed  the  head  in 
this  excavation.  This  is  not  always  done  gently,  but  these 
men  did  it'  so,  remembering,  each  of  them,  that  his  turn  was 
coming,  and  that  when  it  came  he  might  be  as  poor  as  his 
neighbor;  thinking,  too,  that  they  would  tell  how  it  was  done 
to  the  young  girl  at  home.  Then  the  clods  fell.  There  was 
none  of  that  fearful  resounding  of  clods  on  the  boards  that 
has  torn  so  many  hearts,  but  a  dull,  low  sound  that  was  more 
terrible.  The  daughter  was  at  home,  but  her  spirit  had  gone 
every  step  of  the  way  by  the  side  of  the  andas  and  now  it 
stood  by  and  heard  with  shrieks  the  falling  of  the  clods.  At 
length  the  task  was  done, — rudely  done,  but  kindly;  and  they 
took  up  the  andas  and  laid  it  down  hi  its  place  by  the  side  of 
the  adobe  wall  of  the  Campo  Santo. 

In  that  grave  Atanacio  would  be  permitted  to  rest  for  five 
years;  then  his  bones  could  be  digged  up  and  thrown  in  a 
pile  with  those  of  other  people;  and  the  grave  could  be  used 
for  the  interment  of  another  body. 

' ' That  way  of  burying  is  not  so  common  as  it  was  a  few 
years  ago, "  said  a  member  of  our  church  as  he  diligently  made 
cigarettes.  "It  seldom  happens  now  that  even  the  very 
poorest  are  buried  without  coffins.  My  first  wife  died  three 
years  ago,  you  know;  I  thought  I  should  have  to  bury  her 
without  a  coffin  as  I  had  had  to  quit  work  for  some  tune  on 
account  of  her  sickness,  but  my  cousin  happened  to  come  and 


78  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

he  lent  me  $4.00  to  buy  a  coffin.  No,"  he  continued  quietly 
in  answer  to  my  question,  * '  the  excavations  for  the  head  are 
not  always  made;  that  is  an  act  of  special  kindness." 

"But  don't  they  put  boards  or  anything  over  the  body? 
They  don't — just  throw  the  earth  in — on  the  body?  " 

' '  Well,  those  who  can  afford  it  put  a  sheet  over  the  body, 
or  at  least  a  handkerchief  over  the  face.  But  if  they  hav'nt 
those  things  what  can  they  do?  " 

Let  us  talk  of  something  else,  dear  friends. 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OP  HER  FATHER'S  MASTER.        79 


CHAPTER  X.  . 

IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  HER  FATHER'S  MASTER. 

CTNHERE  was  no  time  for  idle  grief  for  Mercedes  and  her  aunt; 
1  they  sat  down  after  the  last  scene  of  the  tragedy  to  make 
cigarettes.  Could  they  save  enough  from  the  daily  food  of  the 
family  to  pay  for  the  rent  of  a  house,  little  as  it  might  be? 

Her  aunt's  voice  and  all  sounds  seemed  far  off  to  Mercedes. 
We  all  know,  I  suppose,  what  these  tunes  are,  when  the 
spirit  is  benumbed  or  paralyzed  with  the  sense  of  loss,  when 
there  is  no  plan  in  the  mind,  no  hope  in  the  soul,  when  the 
earth  seems  to  stand  still  during  that  awful  tune  of  the  in- 
voluntary and  unconscious  readjusting  of  our  lives  to  sadly 
changed  circumstances. 

The  young  girl's  imagination  sometimes  pictured  to  her 
the  market  where  the  coarse  and  poorly  dressed  women  sat 
on  low  chairs  or  on  the  stone  pavement  sewing  and  gossiping 
with  their  vegetables  spread  out  before  them,  the  market 
with  all  its  uproar  of  voices  crying  the  goods  hi  singsong 
tones;  but  she  seemed  to  have  lost  the  power  of  suffering  on 
all  but  one  subject. 

The  morning  of  the  fourth  day  as  they  sat  at  their  work 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  Mercedes  as  she  arose  to 
open  it  made  the  customary  query,  ' '  Who  is  it?  "  and  received 
the  usual  perspicuous  answer,  "I."  Opening  the  door  she 
found  there  Frederica  and  a  servant  girl  Forgetful  of  every- 
thing but  the  presence  of  sympathy  she  caught  her  hand  ex- 
claiming: 

"Oh,  Dona  Frederica!" 

"My  poor  child!"  said  the  lady,  putting  her  arms  around 
her,  • '  I  only  reached  home  yesterday  and  I  did  not  know  it  till 
this  morning."  She  had  been  out  of  town  for  two  weeks. 

She  sat  down  and  the  girl  knelt  beside  her  and  let  the  pent 


80  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

up  tears  flow  freely.  When  she  was  calmer,  Frederica  would 
have  talked  with  her  but  for  the  garrulity  of  Maria  de  los 
Angeles.  Finally  she  arose  to  go  exacting  a  promise  from 
Mercedes  that  she  would  go  to  her  on  the  morrow. 

"Something  must  be  done,"  thought  she  as ,she  returned 
home.  She  thought  of  a  plan  which  might  possibly  succeed, 
and  waited  impatiently  for  the  end  of  the  siesta  that  afternoon 
to  try  to  put  it  into  execution. 

About  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  she  sat  talking  with  Dofia 
Flavia  Salazar  de  Urbina,  the  lady  whom  we  saw  three  years 
ago  at  the  chapel  of  the  Holy  Wood. 

They  sat  in  a  room  of  medium  size.  The  floor  was  made  of 
smooth  black  stone,  oiled  and  polished  to  shining.  The  only 
thing  that  detracted  in  the  least  from  its  beauty  was  the  ir- 
regular stripes  of  lighter-colored  mortar  with  which  they 
were  joined.  Here  and  there  were  handsome,  bright  rugs. 
One  of  these,  a  large  one,  lay  in  front  of  a  sofa  made  of 
polished  cattle  horns  and  upholstered  with  crimson  rep.  On 
either  end  of  the  rug  and  facing  each  other  sat  a  chair  also 
made  of  horns  and  upholstered  with  the  same  material.  The 
inside  blinds  of  the  large  and  deep  window  were  open  show- 
big  the  shutters  wooden  at  the  bottom  for  about  a  foot  and  a 
half  and  glass  above.  The  light  fell  subdued  and  rosy  through 
shades  of  some  gauzy,  crimson  stuff  into  which  were  woven 
or  embroidered  straw  colored  cranes  and  great  bugs  and 
flowers.  Beyond  the  blinds  were  the  slender  iron  bars  that 
protected  the  room  from  intruders  from  the  street.  Near 
the  window  sat  a  round  table  with  a  rich  brown  cover.  On 
it  was  a  large  globe,  a  student's  lamp  and  a  newspaper  or 
two.  Two  or  three  well  filled  bookcases  broke  the  monot- 
ony of  the  walls.  On  the  walls  hung  some  maps  and  two 
portraits  in  oil,  one  of  a  lady,  the  other  of  a  gentleman.  The 
latter  showed  a  dark,  handsome,  Spanish  face,  and  penetrat- 
ing eyes.  The  portrait  of  the  lady  was  rosy  and  voluptuous. 
It  reminded  one  of  the  portrait  of  Nina  da  Rienzi  in  Rome  as 
it  is  described  in  ''The  Last  of  the  Roman  Tribunes."  Sub- 
tracting some  fifteen  years  from  the  age  of  the  lady  who  was 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  HER  FATHER'S  MASTER.        81 

talking  with  Frederica  and  we  are  sure  we  have  the  original  of 
this  portrait;  and  the  other  is  that  of  her  husband. 

It  was  here  in  this  room  that  he  sat  in  the  evenings  and 
read  his  papers  and  letters,*before  he  joined  in  the  parlor  his 
wife  and  children  and  any  guests  that  might  drop  in. 

Dona  Flavia  was  Don  Francisco's  second  wife.  He  had 
thought  himself  a  very  fortunate  man  when,  a  widower  with 
seven  children,  he  had  won  the  rich,  beautiful  and  amiable 
belle  of  Guadalajara,  the  Senorita  Flavia  Salazar.  Six  times 
had  he  and  his  present  wife  given  joyful  welcome  to  the  wee 
guests  whose  tiny  fingers  knocked  at  the  doors  of  their  hearts. 
Of  the  two  daughters  who  had  been  born  to  him  in  the  time 
of  his  first  marriage,  one  had  died,  the  other  was  in  a  convent 
in  France. 

Somewhere  in  the  house  was  an  old  but  carefully  kept 
daguerreotype  showing  two  handsome,  happy  young  faces 
pressed  close  together;  and  Don  Francisco  was  accustomed 
to  tell  his  friends,  with  a  smile  as  he  looked  at  it,  how  he  set 
his  heart  on  having  the  picture  made  that  way,  and  how  An- 
tonia  (his  first  wife)  refused  because  she  was  ashamed,  and 
only  yielded  after  many  entreaties  from  himself.  The  bitter- 
ness had  gone  out  of  his  great  loss  and  there  remained  only 
pleasant  memories. 

The  second  wife  was  not  less  tenderly  loved  because  he  had 
loved  much  the  wife  of  his  youth.  But  when  her  portrait, 
which  he  had  secretly  had  made,  was  presented  to  her  on  her 
saint's  day,  the  first  after  their  marriage,  he  had  hung  beside 
it,  here  in  this  room,  a  portrait  of  himself  as  he  looked  in  the 
days  of  his  youth.  It  was  with  a  pang  as  much  for  him  as 
for  herself  that  Dofia  Flavia  noticed  that. 

Very  tender  were  the  ties  between  husband  and  wife  and 
parents  and  children.  Often  Don  Francisco  and  Dofia  Flavia, 
sitting  alone  together,  side  by  side  talked  of  the  good  qual- 
ities in  their  children;  often  and  with  tender  looks  they  com- 
mended them,  and  sometimes  even  in  the  presence  of 
strangers,  for  their  loving  attentions. 

In  the  midst  of  his  own  children  and  of  his  children's  chil- 
6 


82  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

dren,  beloved  by  all  of  them,  Don  Francisco  dwelt  like  a  pa- 
triarch of  old,  like  the  head  of  a  tribe,  like  a  king  in  the  army. 

' 'Yes,  thank  you,"  Dona  Flavia  was  saying,  "My  sister 
was  better  when  we  last  heard  from  her  than  she  was  when 
you  saw  her  here  as  she  went  on  to  New  York.  The  journey 
was  good  for  her,  and  especially  the  voyage.  They  relieved 
our  anxiety  by  telegraphing  from  New  York  and  again  from 
Havre.  The  letter — we  have  received  only  one  yet — was 
written  from  Paris.  My  brother-in-law,  Don  Gregorio,  wrote, 
and  he  said  that  Emilia  was  so  much  better  that  they  had  de- 
cided to  leave  the  younger  children  with  some  nuns  in  a  con- 
vent while  they  went  on  to  the  Holy  Land.  Jose  Maria  was 
going  to  spend  some  time  in  a  university." 

"When  do  they  expect  to  return?"  asked  Frederica,  so 
busy  with  other  thoughts  and  so  anxious  to  find  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  of  the  subject  that  filled  her  mind  that  she 
was  very  much  afraid  she  might  betray  a  lack  of  interest  by 
making  inopportune  remarks. 

' '  I  think  they  hav'nt  much  idea.  They  want  the  girls  to 
study  French  there  a  few  months,  and  Emilia  and  Gregorio 
will  probably  go  to  Baden-Baden  to  spend  some  time  after 
they  return  from  Palestine.  Jose  Maria  will  not  return  with 
them  as  he  wishes  to  travel." 

"He  impressed  me  as  quite  an  intelligent  young  gentleman. 
He  called  to  see  us  at  your  request,  you  remember,  the  last 
time  we  were  in  Mexico.  He  will  appreciate  such  advan- 
tages." 

' '  Our  family  have  always  been  fond  of  traveling, "  modestly 
replied  Dofia  Flavia.  She  not  infrequently  spoke  of  the  tastes 
and  peculiarities  of  her  family.  "We  have  not  seen  Jose 
Maria  since  he  was  a  child.  When  we  visited  my  sister  in 
Guadalajara  he  was  always  off  at  school,  and  when  we  were 
in  Mexico  we  always  happened  to  miss  him;  he  did  not  stop 
to  see  us  with  the  rest  of  the  family  as  they  went  to  Europe; 
he  went  some  months  before  them." 

And  so  the  conversation  wandered  on  till  at  last  Frederica, 
despairing  of  finding  a  graceful  opportunity  to  introduce  the 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  HER  FATHER'S  MASTER.        83 

subject  she  wished  to  speak  of  and  yet  dreaded,  said  humor- 
ously, and,  she  was  afraid,  a  little  abruptly,  after  a  pause  in 
the  talk: 

"Well,  Flavia,  I  called  to  consult  you  about  what  dispo- 
sition to  make  of  one  of  my  proteges." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  help  you  if  I  can,"  replied  the  lady, 
laughing. 

' '  You  have  heard  me  speak  of  a  young  girl  whom  I  have 
taught  for  about  three  years,  and  of  the  fine  progress  she 
made,  and  of  the  pleasure  she  was  to  me  in  every  way," 
answered  Prederica,  instinctively  praying  to  the  First  Cause 
or  some  other  invisible  Power,  whatever  it  might  be  called, 
to  give  her  the  right  words,  and  to  incline  the  heart  of  her 
friend  to  hear  her  favorably. 

"Yes,"  said  the  listener,  "I  remember." 
4 '  Well,  her  father,  who  by  the  way,  was  one  of  your  husband's 
peons,  died  the  other  day  leaving  her  entirely  alone,  or  worse, 
for  she  is  with  his  step- sister,  a  miserable  old  woman  who 
does  not  treat  her  well.  She  must,  if  I  can  possibly  accom- 
plish it,  be  separated  from  her  and  be  put  in  the  way  of 
making  her  own  living.  And  I  remembered,"  she  continued 
plunging  along  desperately,  "that  I  had  heard  you  say  you 
wanted  a  governess  for  your  little  fellows  and  I  came  around 
to  recommend  this  girl,  Mercedes,  as  she  is  called.  She  is 
quite  young,  it  is  true — only  seventeen — but  she  is  well  qual- 
ified, for  she  is  bright  and  she  has  been  quite  studious.  She 
is  a  devoted  Catholic,  too.  I  assure  you  she  is  in  every  way 
much  above  her  class.  It  gives  one  a  better  opinion  of  the 
common  people  to  see  one  of  them  turn  out  so. " 

"Y-e-s,"  replied  the  hostess,  "it  is  very  gratifying,  of 
course.  But  think  of  employing  the  daughter  of  a  peon  for 
a  teacher  for  the  children!  Blood  will  tell,  Frederica,  no 
matter  what  appearances  may  be  for  the  time.  I  might  now, " 
she  added,  evidently  anxious  to  accommodate  her  friend,  ' '  I 
might  find  some  plain  sewing  for  her  to  do.  But  as  to  the 
other,  I  should  have  to  consult  Francisco  before  I  answered 
you,"  and  the  look  of  perplexity  slipped  away  from  her  face 
at  the  thought. 


84  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

1  'Well,-  here  he  is,  ready  to  deliver  his  infallible  judgment 
on  any  question,"  said  a  hearty  voice  at  the  door,  and  Don 
Francisco  entered.  He  was  a  handsome,  portly  gentleman, 
bearing  well  his  sixty  years.  He  was  dressed  in  broadcloth 
and  held  his  silk  hat  in  his  hand. 

' '  Ah,  here  is  our  friend  Frederica !  At  your  feet,  Senorita, " 
he  continued,  his  face  lighting  pleasantly  as  he  advanced  to 
shake  hands  with  her. 

"I  kiss  my  hand  to  you,  Sefior,"  replied  the  visitor  with  a 
gracious  bow. 

Don  Francisco  sat  down  in  one  of  the  chairs  in  front  of  the 
sofa.  After  a  few  general  remarks  were  exchanged  Frederica 
said  : 

"You  did  come  in  at  just  the  right  time.  I  was  trying  to 
persuade  Flavia  to  take  one  of  my  proteges  off  my  hands,  and 
she,  like  a  good  wife,  said  she  must  refer  so  important  a  ques- 
tion to  her  husband. "  Then  she  briefly  repeated  what  she 
had  said  to  her  hostess.  When  she  had  finished  he  said : 

* '  The  overseer  was  telling  me  to-day  that  one  of  the  men 
had  died,  she  must  be  his  daughter.  He  was  a  good  work- 
man, too,  he  said;  he  was  sorry  to  lose  him.  Atanacio  Gon- 
zales,  was  that  her  father's  name?  " 

"That  was  it,"  replied  Frederica. 

"He  was  very  much  in  his  debt,  the  overseer  said;  though 
that  is  always  the  case  with  these  peons;  I  suppose  they  can't 
very  well  help  it,  they  are  so  poor." 

"Frederica  says  that  she  is  quite  a  capable  girl,"  put  in 
Dona  Flavia. 

"  O,  that  is  not  to  be  doubted  of  a  girl  who  was  educated 
by  Frederica.  She  is  like  that  old  king  who  turned  every 
thing  he  touched  to  gold."  Don  Francisco  was  not  inferior 
to  any  of  his  countrymen  in  stately  or  graceful  gallantries. 
But  he  spoke  sincerely  when  he  complimented  the  fair  Ger- 
man. 

The  question  was  discussed  at  length  and  it  was  decided 
that  in  deference  to  the  opinions  of  their  friend  they  would  em  • 
ploy  Mercedes  to  teach  the  younger  children  and  to  do  plain 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  HER~FATHER'S  MASTER.        85 

sewing.  The  salary,  though  small,  would  seem  like  a  fortune  to 
the  girl.  In  fact  the  generous  hearts  of  Don  Francisco  and 
Dofi a  Flavia  warmed  no  little  toward  the  poor  young  creature 
of  whom  their  guest  spoke  so  affectionately. 

Her  love  for  learning  touched  a  responsive  chord  in  the 
heart  of  the  former.  Shrewd  and  successful  business  man 
though  he  was,  the  making  of  money  had  never  been  a  favor- 
ite occupation.  Not  even  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of 
the  high  positions  in  political  life  to  which  his  countrymen 
called  him  had  he  forgotten  the  pleasure  he  had  formerly 
found  in  the  reading  of  his  favorite  authors.  So  when  his 
wife  remarked,  '  *  Since  she  is  bright  it  really  will  be  a  pleas- 
ure to  help  her,  and  especially  as  she  is  a  daughter  of  one  of 
our  workmen,"  Don  Francisco  added: 

"Yes,  we  will  see  what  we  can  do,"  then  continued,  "his 
father  and  brothers  served  me,  too,  so  the  overseer  told  me, 
and  he  said  that  Atanacio  was  the  last  one  of  the  stock;  I 
suppose  he  did  not  take  the  daughter  into  account." 

Don  Francisco  and  his  wife  had  early  imbibed  the  idea  that 
there  was  '  *  a  great  gulf  fixed  "  between  themselves  and  the 
common  people,  and  nothing  had  as  yet  occurred  to  convince 
them  that  as  ' '  face  answers  to  face  in  the  water  brook  "  so 
the  hearts  of  rich  to  poor. 

They  were  very  kind  indeed  to  their  servants  treating  them 
as  good  masters  in  the  United  States  used  to  treat  their  slaves. 
They  paid  them  well,  seeing  to  the  comfort  of  their  bodies, 
gave  them  medicine  in  sickness,  permitted  them  to  exchange 
work  now  and  then,  so  that  the  chambermaid  of  one  month 
was  the  nurse  of  the  following  month  and  the  nurse  was  the 
chambermaid;  and  the  ladies  of  the  family  had  always  in- 
structed them  in  the  Catholic  religion  being  duly  attentive  to 
an  extract  in  their  Catechism  from  a  Bull  of  Pope  Paul  V. 
in  which  he  promises  an  indulgence  of  a  hundred  days  for 
each  time  they  instruct  their  children  and  their  servants  in 
the  said  Catechism. 

But  that  was  a  very  different  thing  from  believing  that  a 
peon  could  actually  break  away  from  his  caste  and  become 


86  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

one  of  them;  for  he  had  the  common  blood  in  him,  you  know. 
Still,  Don  Francisco  reflected,  no  patriotic  Mexican  could 
doubt  that  it  was  possible  for  some  of  the  common  people  to 
become  very  noble  and  useful,  for  some  of  the  greatest 
statesmen  that  Mexico  had  yet  produced  had  belonged  to  the 
common  people. 

"Well,  really  I  have  made  quite  a  visit,"  said  Frederica  as 
she  at  last  arose  to  go.  "I  can't  tell  you  Jiow  grateful  I  am 
to  you  both,  nor  how  happy  I  shall  be  to  tell  the  poor  child 
this  good  news  to-morrow. " 

' '  The  gratitude  is  on  our  side  Frederica.  You  have  fur- 
nished us  a  governess,  and  besides  that  an  opportunity  to  do 
good  to  a  fellow  being,"  replied  Don  Francisco  as  he  and 
Dofia  Flavia  arose  to  accompany  her  to  the  street  door. 

Two  weeks  later  Frederica  and  Mercedes  sat  with  Dona 
Flavia  in  a  small  room  near  the  back  of  the  first  court  in  the 
home  of  the  latter.  The  window  opened  on  the  court  in  which 
there  were  orange  and  lemon  trees  with  golden  fruit,  shrubs, 
flowers  and  vines,  and  in  the  center  a  fountain  whose  slender 
jet  of  water  fell  back  in  sparkling  showTers.  Over  the  glass 
shutters  some  inexpensive  lace  was  tacked  closely.  In  one 
corner  sat  a  small  iron  bed,  painted  red.  The  flowers  of  the 
crocheted  counterpane  were  clearly  outlined  against  the  red 
spread  beneath.  The  pillows  were  long  and  narrow  and 
through  the  open  work  of  the  pillow-cases  shone  the  red 
covers.  There  was  a  wardrobe  on  one  side,  and  there  were 
two  corner  tables  on  which  were  some  inexpensive  ornaments. 

"I  hope  you  will  like  your  room,"  said  Dofia  Flavia  kindly. 
* 1 1  have  taken  pleasure  in  arranging  it.  You  see  I  had  hung 
opposite  your  bed  a  picture  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  the 
Holy  Child  so  you  will  see  it  the  last  thing  at  night  and  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning.  I  was  very  much  pleased  when 
Frederica  told  me  that  you  were  a  devoted  Catholic.  It  really 
is  gratifying,"  she  continued,  turning  to  Frederica,  "  in  these 
times  when  heresy  is  spreading  among  the  common  people, 
to  find  one  who  is  truly  devoted  to  the  Holy  Mother  Church. " 

She  was  not  without  the  hope  that  her  remarks  might  in- 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  HER  FATHER'S  MASTER.        87 

fluence  her  elegant  German  friend,  who,  she  knew,  did  not 
observe  the  rites  of  the  church  as  scrupulously  as,  in  her 
opinion,  it  behooved  a  gentle -woman  to  do. 

"  And  heresy  is  being  introduced  among  the  people  is  it?  " 
Frederica  replied  quietly  avoiding  the  word  * '  common. " 

"O,  yes  indeed.  Francisco  has  relatives  living  in  the 
frontier  along  the  Rio  Grande  and  they  write  us  that  it  is 
quite  common  to  hear  of  gatherings  of  the  ignorant  people 
for  the  reading  and  explanation  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures. 
Just  think  of  their  defying  the  church  in  that  way !  There  is 
no  telling  what  pernicious  ideas  they  will  get.  And  they  are 
even  here  in  our  own  town  teaching  those  dreadful  heresies  of 
Martin  Luther." 

The  fair-haired  lady  winced.  She  never  spoke  of  the  doc- 
trines of  the  teacher  of  Wittenberg.  Her  feelings  had  be- 
come more  kind  towards  Protestants.  If  she  had  protested 
more  herself  against  the  rule  of  the  mother  church  she  would 
not  now  be  a  lonely  stranger  in  a  foreign  land. 

About  two  years  before  this  she  had  seen  in  a  newspaper 
an  account  of  the  death  of  the  wife  of  Herr  Gaussen.  No 
hope  had  sprung  up  in  her  heart,  he  had  long  ago  forgotten 
her,  or  his  companionship  with  that  lovely  Christian  woman 
had  taught  him  that  she  was  wholly  unworthy  of  him.  But 
he  was  in  trouble  now,  a  lonely  man  with  motherless  children 
about  him.  She  found  herself  thinking  of  that  almost  every 
day.  After  all,  wherein  had  he  sinned  in  becoming  a  Luther- 
an? she  asked  herself.  Was  not  he  as  capable  of  judging  of 
the  true  meaning  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures  as  any  Catholic 
priest? 

But  Dona  Flavia  was  still  talking.  ' 4  Those  who  are  here 
in  town  call  themselves — let  me  see  what  they  do  call  them- 
selves— Presbyterians;  and  they  say  the  Baptists  have  estab- 
lished a  mission  here  in  the  last  few  days;  the  Baptists,  the 
very  worst  of  all  of  them !  There  is  no  way  to  stop  the  spread 
of  the  disease  now  that  the  laws  protect  them.  It  is  such  a 
pity!" 

"  What  do  they  teach?  "  asked  the  visitor. 


88  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

'*  O,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Senora  Urbina.  "  I  don't 
want  to  know.  It  is  dangerous  to  inquire  into  such  things. " 
She  had  even  tried  to  win  back  some  of  these-  Presbyterians. 
She  had  had  her  coachman  drive  her  elegant  carriage  to  that 
part  of  town,  and  alighting,  had  picked  her  way  in  delicate 
shoes,  with  daintily  uplifted  skirts,  into  the  poor  house. 
Her  success  was  not  flattering,  and  she  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  such  obstinacy  must  be  due  to  the  influence  of 
Satan. 

After  supper  Mercedes  was  sent  for  to  go  to  the  parlor. 
It  was  with  a  timid  heart  that  she  entered  the  brightly  lighted 
room.  It  was,  as  Mexican  parlors  generally  are,  a  large, 
•long  room.  The.  beams  overhead  were  painted  white  with 
gilded  edges,  and  from  them  hung  large  lamps  whose  many 
prisms  sparkled  in  the  light.  Two  large  windows  opened  on 
the  street,  and  over  them  were  gracefully  draped  silken  cur- 
tains. A  brussels  carpet  covered  the  floor.  At  one  end  of 
the  room  was  the  usual  group  consisting  of  sofa  and  two  arm 
chairs  in  front  of  it  facing  each  other.  They  were  upholstered 
in  pinkish  damask  over  which  trailed  vines  and  flowers.  In 
front  of  one  window  sat  a  small  stand  with  gilded  legs  on 
which  was  a  pot  of  exquisite  artificial  flowers.  There  were 
rugs  and  handsome  tables  with  ornaments,  a  piano,  and,  on 
the  delicately  tinted  walls  some  portraits  and  other  pictures. 

There  was  the  usual  evening  gathering  of  children,  grand- 
children and  friends.  A  group  of  girls  and  young  gentlemen 
at  the  piano  were  playing,  and  discussing  the  music.  Other 
groups  about  the  room  were  talking  quietly.  Dofla  Plavia 
beckoned  Mercedes  to  come  and  sit  near  her. 

In  a  few  minutes  Don  Francisco  entered  and  there  was  a 
general  movement  at  the  end  of  the  room  to  open  the  way 
for  him  to  the  sofa,  the  seat  of  honor;  but  seeing  a  great  arm 
chair  vacant  by  the  side  of  his  wife  he  sat  down  in  that. 
Mercedes  noticed  afterwards  that  he  always  sat  by  her,  and 
that  his  hand,  unconsciously  to  himself,  as  it  seemed,  nearly 
always  rested  on  her  shoulder. 

Pretty,  daintily  dressed  children  flitted  about  the  room  now 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  HER  FATHER'S  MASTER.        89 

stopping  a  moment  to  kiss  Don  Francisco  on  the  lips,  then 
stooping  as  they  passed  to  kiss  the  hand  of  an  uncle  or  father 
as  it  lay  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  or  slipping  an  arm  about  the 
neck  of  an  aunt  or  mother  to  say  something  in  a  low  tone. 

Don  Francisco  was  evidently  a  favorite  with  the  young 
people.  Now  and  then  girls  gathered  about  him  in  a  circle 
and  engaged  in  lively  conversation.  All  appealed  to  him ;  one 
would  not  fail  to  see  that  he  was  the  center  of  attraction  in 
the  room. 

Presently  Dona  Flavia  said,  * '  Francisco,  this  is  the  new 
teacher." 

' '  Ah, "  he  said  pleasantly,  ' '  Mercedes  is  your  name  isn't  it. " 

"Yes,  Sefior,  Mercedes  Gonzales,  at  the  orders  of  your 
Worship." 

"  Well  Mercedes, "  he  continued,  smiling,  "you  will  have 
a  pretty  good  school.  The  boys  and  girls  are  like  flies  in  my 
house." 

A  little  fellow  who  was  lying  on  a  sofa  rolled  over  and 
laughed  at  his  father's  witticism. 

' '  Would  you  like  to  begin  to-morrow  to  see  how  little  they 
know?  " 

"Whenever  you  please,  Sir." 

"Mercedes,"  said  one  of  the  little  girls,  coming  up  to  her 
chair,  ' '  you  didn't  know  there  were  ghosts  in  this  house,  did 
you?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  trying  to  smile. 

"Well,  there  are,  really,"  she  averred,  looking  at  her  with 
very  wide,  would-be  solemn  eyes,  "arn't  there,  papa?" 

Don  Francisco  nodded  and  said  abstractedly,  * '  So  they  say. " 

Two  or  three  more  children  gathered  around  to  see  the  ef- 
fect of  the  ghost  story  on  the  stranger.  . 

'  *  O,  it's  a  dreadful  story, "  went  on  Carolina.  ' '  About  three 
hundred  years  ago  a  wicked  old  Marquis  from  Spain  lived 
here.  One  time  when  he  was  in  another  hacienda  of  his  a 
great  many  miles  from  here  he  gave  a  ball,  and  when  they 
were  all  as  gay  as  could  be  singing  and  dancing  and  playing 
he  told  then  that  he  was  sick  and  that  he  was  going  to  his. 


90  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

room,  but  they  must  go  on  enjoying  themselves.  But  he 
wasn't  sick  at  all;  he  just  wanted  to  come  here  to  kill  his 
wife.  So  he  and  a  servant  slipped  out  and  they  got  on  horses 
and  they  rode  and  rode  and  rode  till  they  came  to  one  of  his 
ranches  and  there  they  changed  horses  and  rode  and  rode  till 
they  reached  here.  And  the  Marquis  came  in  and  murdered  his 
wife.  He  wanted  to  murder  his  little  baby  girl  too  but  the 
nurse  hid  it  so  he  could  not  find  it.  And  they  went  out  and 
jumped  on  their  horses  and  rode  and  rode  till  they  came  to 
his  hacienda;  and  he  went  into  his  room;  and  it  was  nearly 
day.  When  it  was  time  for  breakfast  he  came  out  of  his  room 
just  as  if  he  had  slept  there  all  night,  and  told  them  he  felt 
better.  But  ever  since  he  killed  his  wife  a  woman  dressed 
all  in  white  cries  at  night  in  the  orchard  behind  the  house, 
and  sometimes  away  in  the  night  a  carriage  with  ghosts  in  it 
and  drawn  by  ghost  horses  drives  out  of  this  house  and  drives 
all  about  through  the  streets  of  the  town.5' 

She  ended  breathless.  Little  Lazaro  put  his  elbow  on  Mer- 
cedes' knee  and  his  chin  on  his  hand  and  whispered,  "  Arn't 
you  scared,  Mercedes?  " 

"Not  very  badly,"  she  replied,  slipping  her  arm  about  the 
child. 

Anita  crept  closer  and  in  a  frightened  tone  said  to  a  young 
gentleman  who  sat  near  the  window,  ' '  Rafael,  please  close 
the  blind.  I  am  afraid  of  the  dark  out  there." 

A  little  while  after  the  company  broke  up,  those  who  had 
dropped  in  coming  up  to  say  good  night  to  Don  Francisco 
and  Dona  Flavia.  The  grandchildren  kissed  their  hands  at 
parting. 

When  Mercedes  said  good  night  to  them  Don  Francisco 
said,  smiling: 

"You  must  not  dream  of  the  wicked  Marquis  to-night." 

She  reached  her  room  just  in  time,  for  all  the  evening  the 
knot  in  her  throat  had  been  growing  larger.  She  closed  the 
door  and  burst  into  tears.  But  after  a  few  minutes  of  violent 
weeping  she  controlled  herself  sufficiently  to  say  her  prayers, 
for  in  this  time  of  affliction  she  had  become  more  attentive  to 


IX  THE  HOUSE  OF  HER  FATHER'S  MASTER.        91 

religious  duties.  She  knelt  and  repeated  the  prayer  to  the 
•'Holy  Guardian  Angel  "  which  is  prescribed  for  the  night  in 
Father  Ripalda's  Catechism: 

' '  O  my  holy  Guardian  Angel !  Thou  seest  that  delivering 
myself  up  now  to  sleep  I  am  going  to  put  myself  in  a  state  in 
which  I  cannot  take  care  of  myself;  therefore  I  need  now 
more  of  thy  assistance  and  care.  Do  not  permit,  my  Holy 
Angel,  that  the  powers  of  darkness  have  dominion  over  me; 
deliver  me  from  injurious,  impure  and  troublesome  dreams; 
and  when  I  awake  in  the  morning  do  not  allow  the  devil  to 
rob  me  of  the  first  fruits  of  the  day,  but  suggest  to  me  some 
thought  that  may  carry  all  my  heart  and  affection  to  my 
Creator.  Amen. " 

Then  crossing  herself  many  times  as  a  protection  against 
the  evil  influences  that  might  linger  in  that  room — for  the 
murder  might  have  taken  place  there,  she  reflected — she  lay 
down.  She  cried  herself  to  sleep;  for  the  thought  that  all 
this  good  fortune  had  come  to  her  through  her  father's  death 
was  a  very  bitter  one. 

She  dreamed  that  the  Marquis  with  the  thin,  dark  face  and 
the  small,  deep-set  eyes  bent  over  her  ready  to  kill  her.  She 
'struggled  out  of  that  nightmare,  and  aftej:  a  long  time  slept 
again  and  dreamed  that  as  she  sat  in  her  room  she  heard  a 
carriage  rolling  through  the  court  and  the  tread  of  horses, 
but  it  was  not  like  the  tread  of  living  horses,  though  they 
went  swiftly.  She  sprang  up  and  opened  the  door,  and  there 
was  the  carriage,  a  very  old  fashioned  one,  such  a  one  as 
Charles  V.  might  have  ridden  in,  it  seemed  to  her,  and  it  was 
all  worm-eaten  and  dropping  to  pieces.  She  looked  through 
the  door,  and  there  sat  a  ghostly  lady  "  all  in  white."  There 
were  other  ghosts  in  the  carriage  but  she  did  not  see  them 
distinctly.  As  she  looked  the  lady  fixed  her  great  dark  eyes 
on  her  and  cried  out,  "Osave  my  baby!  save  my- baby!" 
And  then  the  phantom  horses  plunged  forward  with  their 
phantom  load,  and  away  they  went  through  the  hall  and  past 
the  parlor  door,  and  through  the  great  front  door  which 
opened  to  them  of  its  own  accord.  And  so  they  went  on 


92  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

through  the  streets  of  the  town  while  the  people  slept.  Then 
Mercedes  awoke  and  was  glad  that  this,  too,  was  a  dream. 
After  a  long  time  she  slept  again  and  dreamed  that  she 
heard  the  wild  cries  of  a  woman.  She  went  to  the  window 
which,  as  it  seemed  to  her  looked  on  an  orchard,  and  there 
under  a  tree  was  the  woman  all  in  white  wringing  her  hands 
and  crying;  and  as  she  looked  at  her  suddenly  it  was  not  the 
Marchioness  but  her  father  who  was  wringing  his  hands  and 
crying.  The  red  flames  of  purgatory  arose  around  him. 
When  he  saw  her  he  stretched  out  his  hands  to  her  and  cried, 
"  O,  Mercedes,  help  me  out,  help  me  out! "  And  in  her  strug- 
gle to  break  the  spell  that  held  her  so  she  could  go  to  him, 
she  awoke.  It  seemed  real  to  her;  her  father's  own  voice 
had  called  her  from  the  spirit  world,  and  he  had  begged  her 
to  help  him.  She  had  wished  he  might  come  to  her  and  he 
had  come — to  beg  for  masses  for  the  repose  of  his  soul. 


A  FEW  THINGS  ABOUT  SCHOOLS  AND  CONVENTS.  93 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  FEW  THINGS  ABOUT  SCHOOLS  AND  CONVENTS. 

IN  the  first  days  of  her  life  in  Don  Francisco's  house  Mer- 
cedes often  wondered  where  was  Magdalena,  the  pretty 
daughter  of  Dona  Flavia  whom  she  had  seen  at  the  little 
chapel  on  the  hill.  After  a  few  days  she  asked.  She  was  at 
school,  Dona  Flavia  replied.  She  had  been  for  three  years 
in  a  College  of  ^he  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus  in  a  city  in  the 
southern  part  of  Mexico.  * '  We  wanted  her  to  be  in  the  care 
of  the  holy  nuns  while  she  had  to  be  away  fsom  us,"  she  said, 
forgetting  that  Don  Francisco  had  only  consented,  and  very 
reluctantly,  to  her  plan. 

I  have  been  able  to  get  very  little  definite  information  about 
Catholic  schools  in  Mexico.  It  is  said  that  all  of  them  are 
under  the  control  of  the  Jesuits.  That  may  strike  you  as 
strange  since  the  followers  of  Ignacius  de  Loyola  have  been 
banished  from  the  country.  They  are  here,  nevertheless. 

Some  people  who  have  a  great  horror  of  the  Jesuits  are 
very  complacent  towards  the  Catholics  in  general.  They  do 
not  know  that  Catholicism  has  become  Jesuitism.  The  Jesu- 
itical doctrines  which  authorize  mental  restrictions,  lying, 
perjury,  stealing,  secret  compensation  and  murder  are  now, 
so  those  who  have  studied  the  subject  tell  us,  the  doctrines 
of  the  whole  Roman  Catholic  Church;  and  all  the  clergy  and, 
in  short,  all  who  teach  that  religion  are  required  to  teach 
them.  They  are,  then,  taught  in  all  the  Catholic  schools. 

It  is  said  that  far  more  attention  is  given  to  the  instruction 
of  the  pupils  in  the  principles  of  Catholicism  than  in  those  of 
the  text -books.  A  young  lady  who  in  her  childhood  attended 
a  Catholic  school  in  the  city  of  Mexico  told  me  that  the  prin- 
cipal thing  she  studied  was  the  catechism. 

As  to  the  text- books,  your  attention  has  often  been  called 


94  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

to  the  Romanism  in  them.  In  the  histories  which  they  use 
there  are  gross  violations  of  truth,  for  instance  when  they 
treat  of  such  occurrences  as  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's eve. 

I  was  once  betrayed  by  ignorance  into  buying  some  Roman 
Catholic  text-books  for  the  use  of  a  class  of  young  ladies  to 
whom  I  was  teaching  English  here  in  Mexico.  Some  of  them 
had  the  books,  spelling  books  and  readers,  having  used  them 
when  they  attended  a  Roman  Catholic  school  in  Texas,  and 
they  wished  to  continue  to  use  them  on  account  of  the  expense 
of  buying  new  ones.  I  saw  that  they  were  prepared  '  *  By  a 
Catholic  Teacher,"  but  I  thought,  "Of  course  they  teach  no 
denominationalism;  no  school  books  do  that." 

I  found  that  they  were  full  of  Romanism;  even  the  simple 
sentences  in  the  spelling  book  which  was  intended  for  begin- 
ners in  the  United  States  were  full  of  Catholicism.  I  refused 
of  course  to  use  them,  and  finally  succeeded  in  selling  them 
at  a  sacrifice  to  the  principal  of  that  school  which  the  young 
ladies  had  attended. 

You  are  familiar  with  the  statement  that  there  are  no  con- 
vents nor  monasteries  in  Mexico. 

In  Bancroft's  History  of  Mexico  I  find  this  paragraph  which 
I  translate:  "Another  notable  act  of  Juarez  was  the  decree 
of  confiscation  of  the  goods  of  the  church  on  July  12,  1859, 
founded  on  the  fact  that  the  clergy  had  been  the  principal 
support  of  the  royalists  during  the  war  of  independence  and 
since  then  the  most  powerful  enemies  of  liberal  ideas,  pro- 
moting the  present  fratricidal  war  with  the  object  of  retain- 
ing supremacy  in  civil  affairs  as  well  as  in  religious  affairs. 
This  decree  returned  to  the  nation  all  the  property  which  the 
regular  and  secular  clergy  possessed,  separated  the  church 
and  state  and  at  the  same  time  conceded  to  all  the  religious 
sects  the  right  of  public  worship.  Religious  ministers  were 
to  receive  for  their  services  only  voluntary  contributions  and 
they  were  not  to  hold  real  estate;  at  the  same  time  it  com- 
manded the  dissolution  of  all  the  religious  societies,  consider- 
ing them  dangerous  to  the  public  welfare.  These  measures 


A  FEW  THINGS  ABOUT  SCHOOLS  AND  CONVENTS.  95 

aroused  the  malevolence  of  the  clerical  party  who  did  not 
hesitate  to  oppose  them  in  the  confessional,  in  the  pulpit, 
and  by  the  worn  out  means  of  excommunication,  making  use 
of  the  timid  consciences  of  the  women  and  the  fears  of  the 
people. " 

But  the  law  stood  firm  and  six  months*  afterward  the  vic- 
torious army  of  Juarez,  25,000  in  number,  entered  the  capital, 
greeted  by  the  acclamations  of  their  friends,  and  proceeded 
to  enforce  it. 

The  monasteries  and  convents  (they  are  all  called  convents 
in  Mexico)  were,  many  of  them,  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and 
they  had  grown  so  large  that  they  had  crossed  and  closed 
streets.  Juarez  drew  up  his  army  in  front  of  one  after  another 
where  they  closed  the  streets  and  commanded  to  batter  them 
down  with  cannon  balls.  It  was  not  a  measure  of  war;  it  was 
only  the  easiest  way  to  open  the  streets.  Those  of  the  monks 
and  nuns  who  still  lingered  in  defiance  of  the  law  fled  when 
they  saw  that  dark  mass  of  men  and  the  threatening  cannon 
before  the  walls.  After  the  buildings  were  opened  thus  the 
soldiers  rushed  in. 

"We  were  so  furious  against  the  convents,"  said  a  gentle- 
man who  was  a  captain  in  that  army,  relating  it  many 
years  afterward  to  a  friend  from  whom,  in  turn,  I  heard  the 
narrative,  ''that  we  rushed  in  and  tore  down  the  shrines  and 
altars  and  broke  the  images  and  trampled  them  under  foot, 
and  threw  the  books  into  the  streets." 

Many  of  the  books  were  picked  up  and  preserved.  \  Some 
of  them  are  to  be  seen  now  in  the  halls  of  the  National  Li- 
brary. Many  of  them  were  sold  for  trifles  at  the  book  stands. 
This  old  leather-covered,  warped,  yellow-leafed,  worm-eaten 
copy  of  the  Catechism  of  the  Council  of  Trent  in  the  book 
case  at  my  elbow  is  one  of  them;  in  the  last  few  weeks  I  have 
had  occasion  to  consult  others  of  them. 

So  numerous  and  so  large  were  these  convents  that  one 
wonders  how  there  was  room  for  houses  of  any  other  class. 

When  they  were  confiscated  to  the  state  and  the  inmates 
were  expelled,  they  were  given  the  choice  of  re  turning*  to- 


96  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

their  families  or  leaving  the  country.  Many  of  them  embarked 
for  Italy  where  they  took  refuge  in  the  convents  of  Milan; 
others  laid  aside  the  veil  and  the  monastic  habit  and  lived 
as  other  people;  a  few  of  the  women  continued  to  wear  the 
habit,  living  as  nuns  in  the  houses  of  their  relatives,  and  their 
faces  never  have,  to  this  day,  been  seen  in  the  streets.  Prison- 
ers they  are,  like  His  Holiness  in  the  Vatican,  and  as  worthy 
of  sympathy  as  he. 

There  are  not  a  few  nuns  in  Mexico  in  charge  of  schools.  I 
once  traveled  for  some  distance  in  company  with  two  of  them;  it 
was  on  a  train  which  at  the  end  of  its  journey  entered  the 
City  of  Mexico.  They  were  elegant  looking  women,  in  hand- 
some but  plainly  made  black  dresses,  bonnets  and  long  veils. 
They  conversed  in  low  musical  voices  and  in  two  or  three 
languages.  I  could  very  well  imagine  that  they  were  high- 
born and  high-bred  women.  There  was  nothing  about  them 
but  the  nun's  dress  to  indicate  that  they  were  tainted  with 
the  moral  leprosy  which  is  contracted  from  the  use  of  the  doc- 
trines of  Loyola  and  from  other  Roman  Catholic  influences 
and  practices — nothing  but  the  dress  and  a  catalogue  of  a 
school  in  the  shawl-strap  of  one  of  them,  a  catalogue  of  a 
College  of  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus. 

A  great  many  kinds  of  very  fine  needlework  are  taught  in 
the  Catholic  Schools  here.  When  the  young  ladies  become 
very  proficient  they  are  permitted  to  embroider  with  gold, 
silk  and  velvet  robes  for  the  Archbishops. 

Magdalena's  letter  to  her  mother  conveying  the  intelligence 
that  this  honor  had  been  conferred  on  her  gave  great  pleasure 
to  that  lady,  not  only  because  it  was  a  proof  of  her  daughter's 
proficiency  in  the  art  of  embroidery,  but  because  she  was 
to  be  engaged  in  so  high  a  religious  work.  All  such  good 
works  would  tend  to  shorten  her  prospective  stay  in  purga- 
tory. 

When  this  letter  was  read  to  Mercedes  she  went  off  into 
day  dreams  about  the  elegance  of  the  school  and  of  the  teach- 
ers, about  the  privilege  or  learning  to  make  all  those  beauti- 
ful things,  and  especially  about  the  religious  training  of 


A  FEW  THINGS  ABOUT  SCHOOLS  AND  CONVENTS.  97 

which  her  mistress  spoke  with  so  much  enthusiasm.  Ah! 
the  way  to  heaven  must  seem  very  plain  to  Magdalena,  while 
she  must  go  on  all  her  life  groping  in  the  dark,  a  lost  child! 
If  she  could  only  become  a  nun,  she  thought,  if  she  were 
only  good  enough  to  live  among  the  holy  nuns,  spending  her 
days  and  nights  in  meditations  and  prayers  and  good  works, 
she  might  find  peace  of  soul. 


98  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

PURGATORY. 

|NE  afternoon,  about  a  month  after  Mercedes  began  to 
teach  in  Don  Francisco's  house,  she  helped  her  restless, 
happy  little  charges,  Jose  Maria,  or  Pepe,  as  they  generally 
called  him,  Lazaro  and  Alejandro  into  their  riding  suits,  and 
watched  them  as  each  mounted  on  his  own  pony  dashed  off 
down  the  street  with  the  servant  for  their  usual  afternoon  ride. 
Then  she  went  back  into  the  house  thinking  how  pretty  and 
lovable  they  were.  As  she  passed  to  her  own  room  Don 
Francisco,  who  was  sitting  in  the  corridor  with  Dona  Flavia, 
called  her.  She  went  up  to  them  and  at  their  invitation  sat 
down  near  them  on  the  bent  wood  sofa.  After  a  little  con- 
versation about  the  children  Don  Francisco  said  pleasantly: 

"Would  you  not  like  to  have  some  money,  Mercedes?  You 
are  unlike  most  young  ladies  if  you  would  not. " 

11 1  thank  you,  Don  Francisco,"  she  replied  with  some  con- 
fusion,, "I  owe  you  more  than  I  can  ever  pay  you;  but  I  need 
some  money — a  good  deal  of  what  you  promised  to  pay  me, 
in  fact — very  much." 

"What  do  you  owe  me  for?  "  he  asked,  in  surprise,  straight- 
ening himself  up  in  his  chair. 

"My  father  owed  you,  you  know." 

"  O,  that  is  it!  Why,  didn't  you  know  that  when  a  laborer 
died  his  debts  were  all  forgiven?  " 

"Yes,  Sefior,  I  knew  that.  But  if  they  are  just  debts,"  she 
continued,  looking  steadily  at  him,  "if  they  are  just  debts  they 
ought  to  be  paid  by  the  children." 

Don  Francisco  winced  a  little  and  wondered  if  his  shrewd 
overseer  was  not  more  exacting  than  he  ought  to  be. 

1 '  Well,  it  is  the  custom  to  forgive  all  the  debts,  and  if  it 
were  not  I  should  not  allow  you  to  pay  me  anything. " 


PURGATORY.  99 

"I  thank  you,  Don  Francisco.  My  father  tried  very  hard 
to  pay  you.  He  killed  himself  trying  to  pay  you;  but  no  mat- 
ter how  hard  he  worked  or  how  little  he  bought  the  debt  grew 
larger  and  larger.  It  was  the  same  way  with  my  grandfather 
and  my  uncles.  They  all  died  trying  to  pay  debts  which  grew 
larger  and  larger,  they  never  knew  how. "  And  she  gave  way 
to  her  overwrought  feelings  by  bursting  into  tears.  The 
pent  up  indignation  of  three  generations  gave  her  the  strength, 
now  that  she  stood  face  to  face  with  the  oppressor  of  her 
people,  to  tell  him  of  their  wrongs. 

"I  know  that  the  overseer  did  it,"  she  went  on  as  soon  as 
she  could  control  her  voice.  * '  And  they  say  you  never  know 
much  of  what  goes  on  in  your  haciendas.  But  none  the  less 
are  your  peons  ground  down  year  after  year  into  deeper 
depths  of  poverty  and  anxiety." 

' '  Well,  child,  I  am  afraid  the  overseers  are  not  as  good  men 
as  they  might  be;  but  it  is  all  over  now.  So  don't  cry  any 
more,  and  take  your  money." 

' '  I  thank  you,  Don  Francisco, "  she  replied  as  she  took  the 
money  and  then  went  to  her  room. 

Don  Francisco  and  his  wife  talked  a  little  while  and  then  he 
went  out  and  walked  a  long  tune  in  the  orchard.  His  re- 
flections were  not  pleasant;  he  could  not  help  feeling,  notwith- 
standing what  she  had  said  about  the  overseer,  that  he  was  to 
blame  to  some  extent,  and  that  she  thought  so.  There  was 
something  awful  in  the  way  that  weak,  helpless  daughter  of 
the  people  had  turned  on  him  like  a  wild  beast  at  bay.  What 
if  there  should  come  a  great  day  of  reckoning  in  which  all 
these  laborers  of  his  should  face  him  and  accuse  him!  He 
had  little  belief  in  supernatural  things,  and  things  to  come  to 
pass  after  death,  nevertheless  he.  thought  a  good  deal  of  the 
day  of  judgment  that  afternoon.  They  were  strange  thoughts 
to  him,  these  of  injustice  and  accusers,  for  he  had  always 
thought  of  himself  as  a  generous  and  kind-hearted  man;  he 
had  even  been  called  a  philanthropist,  and  the  term  had  not 
sounded  strange  to  him. 

Two  or  three  times  he  lighted  a  cigarette  and  then  threw 


100  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

it  down  and  walked  on  with  his  head  down  and  his  hands  be- 
hind him. 

It  was  an  evil,  he  admitted,  the  existence  of  these  great 
haciendas.  But  what  could  be  done  about  it?  Nothing  till 
he  died  and  then  his  would  be  divided  among  his  children. 
Let  tune  settle  it!  And  with  this  reflection  he  went  back  to 
the  house  and  ate  his  merienda  and  went  off  to  his  office. 

Mercedes  had  her  cry  out  with  a  vague  feeling  that  she 
was  responsible  for  all  the  sins  of  all  the  superintendents  in 
Mexico,  and  a  great  dread  of  the  consequences  to  herself  of 
her  outburst  of  indignation.  She  would  have  been  willing  to 
sacrifice  her  own  interests  if  there  had  been  any  hope  of  bene- 
fitting  those  others  of  her  class  who  were  on  Don  Francisco's 
haciendas;  but  she  could  not  flatter  herself  with  that  hope. 
However,  as  little  trouble  came  of  it  for  her  as  there  was  bene- 
fit in  it  for  others. 

She  went  on  as  usual  with  her  teaching  of  text-book  and 
catechism.  She  put  herself  in  the  way  of  reaping  whatever 
of  profit  there  is  hi  the  pope's  promise  of  indulgences  to 
teachers,  as  she  found  it  in  the  catechism  which  is  in  com- 
mon use.  It  reads  as  follows: 

"Indulgences.  Seven  years  to  school  teachers  each  time 
they,  on  Sundays  or  festive  days,  assemble  the  children  to  ex- 
plain the  Catechism  to  them;  and  one  hundred  days  for  each 
tune  they  do  this  in  the  classes  on  week  days.  "  Mercedes 
had  very  indefinite  ideas  about  it  all;  the  teaching  of  the  cate- 
chism was  a  good  work,  and  as  salvation  was  to  be  purchased 
by  good  works  it  was  well  to  be  as  diligent  in  the  perform- 
ance of  them  as  possible.  It  is  more  difficult  to  introduce 
the  idea  of  the  freedom  of  salvation  into  the  mind  of  a  Catho- 
lic than  any  other. 

But  there  was  another  subject  which  troubled  Mercedes  far 
more  in  these  days  than  any  thought  of  her  own  safety.  Don 
Francisco  paid  her  regularly  every  month  and  with  no  less 
regularity  she  paid  to  the  priest  all  of  her  salary  that  she 
could  possibly  spare  to  induce  him  to  say  masses  for  the  re- 
pose of  her  father's  soul.  This  money  was  not  paid  to  the 


PURGATORY.  101 

priest  who  had  visited  her  father  on  his  death-bed;  the  sight 
of  him  was  intolerable  to  Mercedes.  It  was  paid  to  the  cure. 
He  was  an  aged  man;  by  virtue  of  having  been  a  priest  for  a 
great  number  of  years  he  had  at  least  one  privilege  of  a  bishop 
— that  of  saying  High  Mass  (Misa  Pontificial). 

With  the  common  people  he  indulged  in  coarse  stories  and 
jests;  but  as  the  spiritual  adviser  of  the  ladies  of  wealth  and 
fashion  he  was  supposed  to  adapt  his  conversation  to  their 
habits  of  thought. 

The  doctrine  of  purgatory  is  a  rich  mine  of  wealth  for  the 
Catholic  Church.  From  McClintock  and  Strong's  Cyclopedia 
we  learn  that  the  Jews  received  the  idea  of  a  purifying  con-' 
flagration  from  the  Persians.  Prom  the  Jews  it  passed  into 
the  ethical  speculations  of  the  Christians.  "But  whatever 
the  views  of  some  church  fathers  on  the  subject  as  a  doctrine, 
it  was  unknown  in  the  Christian  Church  for  the  first  600  years, 
and  it  does  not  appear  to  have  been  made  an  article  of  faith 
until  the  tenth  century  when  '  the  clergy, '  says  Mosheim, 
*  finding  these  superstitious  terrors  admirably  adapted  to  in- 
crease their  authority  and  promote  their  interest,  used  every 
method  to  augment  them;  and  by  the  most  pathetic  discourses, 
accompanied  with  monstrous  fables  and  fictitious  miracles, 
they  labored  to  establish  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  and  also 
to  make  it  appear  that  they  had  a  mighty  influence  in  that 
formidable  region." 

"Purgatory,  as  a  burning  away  of  sins,"  said  Dollinger  at 
the  Bonn  Conference  of  Old  Catholics  in  1875,  "was  an  idea 
unknown  in  the  East  as  well  as  the  West  till  Gregory  the 
Great  introduced  it.  He  added  the  idea  of  a  tormenting  fire. 
This,  the  schoolmen  gradually  converted  into  doctrine  which 
they  associated  with  papal  indulgence,  till  it  came  to  apply  to 
the  dead  generally,  which  of  course  made  all  seek  for  indul- 
gence. It  went  on  to  have  degrees;  some  could  receive  in- 
dulgence for  a  few  of  their  sins,  others  for  all,  and  so  on;  so 
that  eventually  the  pope,  having  already  the  keeping  of 
heaven  and  dominion  on  earth,  obtained  also  sovereignty 
under  the  earth."  (McClintock's  Cyclopedia.) 


102  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Of  the  fees  for  masses  for  the  dead  the  priest  must  pay  a 
certain  per  cent,  to  the  bishop,  the  bishop  to  the  archbishop, 
the  archbishop  to  the  pope.  No  doubt,  too,  the  pope  is  liber- 
ally paid  to  license  such  institutions  as  * '  purgatorial  insurance 
companies,  which  for  a  certain  premium  paid  annually  insures 
the  payor  a  certain  number  of  masses  for  his  soul  in  the  event 
of  his  death. "  (Of  the  existence  of  such  a  company  we  learn 
in  the  Cyclopedia  referred  to  above.) 

It  has  been  said  that  no  matter  how  much  money  was  paid 
for  masses  for  the  dead  the  priests  seldom  or  never  announced 
that  the  sufferer  was  released  from  torment.  The  reason  for 
this  is  evident:  as  long  as  they  could  make  the  survivors 
believe  that  the  relative  was  still  in  purgatory  there  was  hope 
that  they  would  pay  for  masses. 

It  often  happens,  however,  that  the  money  comes  in  too 
slowly  to  satisfy  the  avarice  of  the  priest.  Then  he  invents 
new  methods  to  fill  his  purse.  An  additional  advantage  in 
these  extra  methods  is  that  the  money  all  belongs  to  the  offi- 
ciating priest. 

Raffling  is  practiced  in  Mexico,  not  only  for  religious  pur- 
poses, not  only  as  a  means  of  controlling  the  affairs  of  the 
unseen  world,  not  only  to  obtain  money  for  the  building  of 
churches  and  for  the  buying  of  the  furniture  for  them;  but  it 
is  practiced  universally  for  private  ends.  Poor  women  will 
call  at  one's  door  to  ask  her  to  buy  a  number  with  the  hope 
that  she  may  be  so  fortunate  as  to  win  the  prize — a  pair  of 
brass  pendants  for  the  ears;  another  displays  to  her  admiring 
gaze  a  handkerchief,  or  a  cushion,  or  a  napkin,  or  an  article 
of  apparel,  and  solicits  his  dollar,  half  dollar  or  quarter,  and 
his  subscription  on  the  dirty  paper  of  names  which  she  carries. 
If  one  has  a  horse  to  dispose  of  he  is  informed  that  an  advan- 
tageous way  would  be  to  raffle  him;  if  he  wishes  to  select  his 
intimate  friends  for  the  coming  year — let  him  raffle  for  them. 

If,  therefore,  he  wishes  his  departed  friends  to  escape  from 
the  torments  of  the  condemned  and  enter  into  the  ' '  rest  which 
remains  for  the  people  of  God,"  let  him  raffle  for  it;  the  priest 
promises  to  say-enough  masses  to  insure  the  passage  to  heaven 
of  the  friends  of  those  who  draw  the  fortunate  number. 


PURGATORY.  103 

One  day  several  of  the  principal  ladies  of  the  church  met 
with  the  Sefior  Cure  in  the  parlor  of  the  Sefiora  de  Urbina 
to  arrange  for  a  general  raffle  in  favor  of  the  souls  in  purga- 
tory. The  customary  arrangements  were  made.  A  commit- 
tee of  ladies  was  appointed  to  go  from  house  to  house  and 
solicit  contributions.  They  were  to  ask  for  three  cents  from 
each  person  with  the  name  of  some  sufferer  in  purgatory,  if 
there  was  any  in  that  place  of  torment  who  was  dear  to  him. 

Each  name  was  to  be  numbered.  As  these  zealous  ladies 
would  visit  nearly  every  house  hi  the  town  it  would  be  a  con- 
siderable sum-  which  they  would  lay  before  the  Sefior  Cure. 

On  a  very  few  of  the  thousands  of  the  slips  of  paper  which 
he  prepared  he  wrote,  besides  the  number,  tne  word  "  raffle,5' 
selecting  the  numbers  carefully  with  respect  to  the  names 
which  accompanied  them.  For  the  person  whose  number  was 
accompanied  by  this  word  sufficient  masses  were  to  be  said  to 
secure  his  exit  from  purgatory. 

The  raffle  took  place  in  the  vestry  of  the  church  in  the 
presence  of  a  committee,  the  Sefior  Cure  presiding.  After- 
wards the  lucky  numbers  were  announced  to  the  congregation 
who  waited  kneeling  on  the  stone  floor  of  the  church,  the  men 
with  uncovered  heads,  the  black-robed  women  with  heads 
meekly  bowed  under  black  shawls  or  mantillas.  They  all 
waited,  each  in  intensest  expectation,  their  hearts  full  of  ten- 
der memories,  unusually  fresh  to-day,  awed  by  the  nearness 
of  the  unseen  world  and  the  mystery  of  the  whole  ceremony- 
hoping  each  to  hear  his  chosen  number  called  when  the  priest 
should  enter. 

Mercedes  was  one  of  those  who  knelt  and  waited,  rapidly 
repeating  Ave  Marias  and  Pater  Nosters,  then  forgetting  them 
and  slipping  off  into  prayers  for  the  dead,  as  she  hoped  and 
waited.  But  her  number  was  not  a  lucky  one.  Neither  was 
there  a  lucky  number  among  those  chosen  by  Dofia  Flavia  for 
her  mother  who  had  been  dead  some  fifteen  years.  The  Se- 
fior Cure  was  too  shrewd  a  business  man  to  permit  the  escape 
of  those  whose  relatives  were  able  to  pay  for  masses. 

After  the  lucky  numbers  were  announced  the  mass  was 


104  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO 

chanted  with  the  usual  accompaniment  of  burning  candles, 
waving  censers,  smoking  incense  and  the  sighing  and  sobbing 
of  music.  The  priests  in  sacerdotal  robes  officiated,  and  the 
people  were  more  and  more  impressed  by  the  solemnity  and 
mystery  of  the  performance. 

Filial  love  moved  the  Senora  de  Urbina  to  try  again  and 
again.  But  the  fates  seemed  to  be  against  her.  Her  mother, 
her  pastor  told  her,  must  have  committed  some  sin  which  was 
very  hard  to  expiate.  But,  he  said,  she  should  not  be  * '  weary 
in  well  doing,  for  in  due  season  she  should  reap  if  she  f ainted 
not." 

Among  other  methods  which  were  used  to  accomplish  the 
release  of  this  good  lady  an  all  night  meeting  was  held  in  the 
principal  church  by  a  society  to  which  Dona  Flavia  belonged, 
and  "  His  Divine  Majesty,  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament"  was  ex- 
posed for  their  adoration. 

At  length  the  afflicted  daughter  resolved  to  have  a  raffle 
for  her  mother  alone.  I  cannot  describe  this  proceeding  bet- 
ter than  in  the  words  of  a  man  who  witnessed  one  of  these 
private  raffles  in  the  house  of  a  wealthy  patron.  It  was  after 
he  became  a  member  of  an  evangelical  church  that  he  and 
his  wife  described  it  and  acted  part  of  it  for  my  edification. 

"All  the  rich  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "were  seated 
around  the  parlor  "- 

"All  of  them  laughing  and  talking?"  I  asked,  for  I  had 
seen  so  much  levity  in  connection  with  these  ceremonies  that 
that  seemed  very  probable. 

"  O,  no !  all  of  them  very  serious.  Crowds  of  servants  and 
poor  friends  of  the  family  stood  around  the  doors  and  watched 
what  was  going  on.  The  cure  stood  by  a  table  in  the  center 
of  the  room.  There  were  two  goblets  on  the  table  and  in 
each  of  them  were  the  same  number  of  slips  of  paper,  all  of 
them  blank  except  one  which  bore  the  name  of  the  person  in 
purgatory  for  whom  the  trial  was  to  be  made.-  Two  little 
girls  drew  the  papers  from  the  goblets,  drawing  alternately, 
one  from  one  goblet,  the  other  from  the  other.  If  the  paper 
containing  the  name  of  the  sufferer  was  the  last  to  be  drawn 


PURGATORY.  105 

out,  that  indicated  that  it  was  not  yet  time  for  him  to  be  de- 
livered from  torment,  but  if  when  that  paper  was  drawn  out 
there  still  remained  papers  in  the  goblets,  then  the  cure  was 
under  obligations  to  say  the  masses  for  his  deliverance. " 

"How  much  does  each  person  pay  the  cure  for  the  raffle?  " 
I  inquired. 

"The  prices  differ.     In  this  case  they  each  paid  8.25.  " 

1 '  Did  you  believe  in  such  things  as  that  before  you  were 
converted?  "  I  asked  the  man  wonder ingly,  for  he  was  a  man 
of  good  sense. 

"Why,  of  course.  How  could  I  help  believing  in  it?  All 
the  Catholics  do." 

And  I  went  off  into  wonder  over  the  mysteries  of  the  human 
mind,  of  the  curious  phases  of  thought  and  .belief  possible  to 
minds  which,  according  to  all  ordinary  standards,  are  sane,— 
and  into  thankfulness  that  I  had  not  been  brought  up  hi  Ro- 
man Catholicism,  that  I  too  should  believe  such  things. 

But  neither  did  the  private  raffle  release  the  mother  of  Dona 
Flavia  from  the  purifying  fires. 

There  was  not  much  hope  in  this  raffle  but  there  was  evi- 
dently more  hope  of  a  successful  end  than  hi  the  general  raffles. 
Mercedes  resolved  to  try  it. 

She  induced  nine  or  ten  women  and  girls,  acquaintances  of 
hers  on  the  Orilla  del  Agua,  to  take  part  in  the  raffle,  paying 
the  money  for  some  of  them  herself,  though  some  of  them, 
poor  as  they  were,  paid  their  own  money.  * '  Atanacio  had  a 
contempt  for  the  Holy  Church  it  is  true,"  they  said,  "but 
that  did  not  save  him  from  purgatory,  and  of  course  it  is  right 
that  his  daughter  should  try  to  relieve  him." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  one  bright  morning  these  women 
and  girls  knelt  in  the  vestry  of  the  church  and  watched  the 
children  draw  out  the  papers.  These  children  wore  short 
calico  dresses.  Their  stockings  dropped  down  over  their 
rusty  shoes.  The  front  part  of  their  hair  was  tied  on  the  tops 
of  their  heads,  so  that  it  made  a  topknot,  that  arrangement 
being  convenient  to  keep  it  out  of  their  eyes;  the  remaining 
hair  was  tightly  braided.  Now  and  then  the  performance 


106  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

was  interrupted  for  a  few  moments  while  the  little  fingers 
clawed  their  heads  vigorously.  But  the  heavenly  innocence 
was  still  in  their  faces,  and  there  was  not  sufficient  dirt  on 
the  fat  little  hands  that  went  fumbling  in  the  goblets  to  ob- 
scure the  baby  grace. 

The  spectators  scarcely  breathed  in  their  suspense;  but 
now  and  then  there  slipped  through  the  red  lips  of  the  chil- 
dren a  little  rippling  laugh  as  a  hand  missed  the  goblet  or 
dived  into  it  with  needless  impetuosity. 

Mercedes'  mind  was  wrought  to  a  high  pitch  by  super- 
stitious awe,  and  by  another  feeling;  there  was  a  dread,  a 
dark  something  that  had  shown  itself  among  the  shadows  of 
her  mind  now  and  then,  during  these  months  when  she  had 
been  trying  to  pay  her  father  out  of  purgatory;  it  had  never 
before  come  so  near,  nor  stared  into  her  face  with  such  men- 
acing look  as  it  did  this  morning.  It  was  the  thought  that 
whatever  her  justifying  reasons  might  be,  it  was  a  shameful 
thing  to  disobey  her  father;  it  was  a  want  of  respect  for  him 
on  the  part  of  his  daughter,  it  was  humiliating  him.  among 
his  neighbors  to  permit  that  these  priests,  who,  according  to 
his  judgment,  were  the  worst  of  men,  should  handle  his  name, 
should  make  expiation  for  him.  She  had  a  vague  f eeling  that 
'  this  Something  would  some  day  come  boldly  out  of  the  shad- 
ows and  seize  her  and  hold  her  in  its  horrible  clutches  while 
it  stared  down  into  her  eyes  and  read  through  them  all  the 
disobedience  and  want  of  respect  for  her  father.  The  night 
before  as  she  sat  thinking  of  this  she  had  buried  her  burning 
eyes  and  parched  lips  in  her  hands  and  had  moaned:  "  O  God, 
I  don't  know  what  is  right!  Have  mercy  on  me! " 

The  papers  fluttered  and  rustled  as  they  were  drawn  out  of 
the  goblets.  They  were  nearly  all  out.  The  attention  had 
become  intense.  The  eyes  of  the  women  were  on  the  little 
white,  fluttering  things  with  which  was  so  mysteriously  con- 
nected more  than  life  or  death.  At  last — they  could  not  be 
mistaken — they  saw  the  name  on  a  paper  which  one  of  the 
little,  fat  hands  grasped.  The  priest  would  have  given  not 
a  little  to  snatch  it  from  the  child's  hand  and  slip  it  back  into 
the  goblet. 


PURGATORY.  107 

A  sigh  of  relief  broke  from  their  lips  as  they  arose  to  their 
feet.  But  there  was  no  brightness  of  joy  in  Mercedes'  face. 
Was  this  triumph?  There  was  a  mixture  of  feelings  in  her 
mind.  Now  that  it  was  all  over  that  dreaded  Something  had 
come  out  of  the  shadows  and  grasped  her.  She  saw  in  his 
true  light  the  man  who  stood  before  her  with  the  forced  smile 
in  his  eyes  and  the  false  words  of  congratulation  on  his  lips. 
A  horror  of  darkness  had  fallen  on  her  hi  the  midst  of  the 
bright  day. 


108  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

REVELATIONS. 

IS  the  days  passed  this  darkness  was  not  lifted,  neither 
was  there  any  rift  in  the  clouds.     It  seemed  to  her  she 
must  be  contemptible  in  the  eyes  of  God  and  man. 

One  day  in  the  midst  of  this  darkness  she  received  a  mes- 
sage from  Frederica  requesting  her  to  come  to  her.  She  re- 
ceived her  with  a  shining  face,  and  there  were  roses  in  the 
girdle  of  her  dainty  summer  dress,  a  phenomenon  which  Mer- 
cedes had  never  noticed  before. 

"I  sent  for  you,  dear,"  said  Frederica  when  they  were 
seated  in  her  room,  "to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  off  a  long 
way;  I  am  going  back  to  Germany  to  live,  I — in  fact — I  am 
going  to  be  married  in  a  few  days,"  and  the  delicate  color 
mounted  to  her  cheeks  and  spread  over  the  white  column  of 
her  neck. 

Mercedes  only  stared  at  her  blankly  and  repeated  ' '  going 
off,"  "going  to  be  married." 

'  *  Yes,  dear,  a  friend  whom  I  knew  in  Germany  a  long  tune 
ago  has  come,  and  we  are  to  be  married  and  go  back  to  his 
home.  I  want  you  to  be  at  my  marriage.  You  can  put  off 
your  black  dress  for  that  evening.  You  can  get  a  pretty  white 
dress;  you  will  need  it  soon  anyhow.  Get  Maria  Goribar  to 
make  it  for  you;  Dofia  Flavia  will  help  you  select  it.  You 
will  come,  won't  you,  daughter?  It  is  very  hard  for  me  to 
leave  you,  you  have  been  a  great  pleasure  to  me." 

The  girl,  making  an  effort  to  repress  a  sob,  and  to  connect 
in  her  mind  such  incongruities  as  her  teacher,  and  priests  and 
Romish  ceremonies,  replied:  "Yes,  I  will  be  at  the  marriage, 
of  course.  You  will  be  married  in  the  church?  " 

'  *  No,  we  shall  be  married  only  by  the  civil  officer  here  at 
home." 


REVELATIONS.  109 

"And  not  in  the  church  at  all!"  exclaimed  Mercedes  in 
amazement.  "Shall  you  feel  that  you  are  married?"  and 
then  she  feared  that  her  unpremeditated  words  had  given 
unpardonable  offense. 

* '  O  yes,  my  friend  is  not  a  Catholic.  He  would  not  be  mar- 
ried by  the  Church. " 

"Is  he,"  stammered  Mercedes,  as  Frederica  paused,  "is 
he  a  Free  Mason?  "  She  thought  of  the  Protestants,  but  she 
could  not  insult  her  teacher  by  asking  if  she  was  to  marry  a 
Protestant.  Still  she  knew  it  was  scarcely  less  bad  to  ask 
if  she  was  to  marry  a  Mason. 

A  merry  smile  broke  over  Frederica's  face.  * '  O  no,  he  is 
not  a  Mason — that  is,  at  least — I  don't  know  whether  he  is 
or  not.  But  he  is  a  Protestant,  a  Lutheran." 

Mercedes  felt  as  if  she  were  slipping  over  successive  preci- 
pices— a  mason,  a  Protestant,  a  disciple  of  Martin  Luther! 
She  looked  at  the  fair,  womanly  face  before  her  as  if  she  ex- 
pected to  discover  in  it  the  beginning  of  a  transformation  in- 
to something  monstrous;  then  the  recollection  that  she  was 
to  lose  her  only  friend,  her  sweet,  motherly  teacher,  swept 
away  all  other  thoughts.  She  slipped  down  by  Frederica's 
chair,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands  dropped  her  head 
on  her  shoulder  and  sobbed,  as  she  had  done  after  her  father's 
death. 

The  lady's  tears,  too,  fell  on  the  dark,  shining  head.  After 
some  tune  the  girl  succeeded  in  calming  herself.  She  looked 
up  and  said: 

"But  you  are  very  happy,  are  you  not,  Dona  Frederica?  " 

*  *  Yes,  dear,  I  am  very  happy.  I  shall  be  happy  in  my  new 
home.  I  shall  have  a  house  full  of  boys  and  girls  to  care  for. 
But  I  shall  not  forget  my  dear  girl  in  Mexico. " 

They  talked  a  little  while  longer,  and  then  Mercedes  went 
home,  her  mind  full  of  confused  thoughts.  She  must  buy  the 
dress  and  have  it  made.  For  a  few  days  she  had  little  time 
to  think  of  her  troubles,  and  in  the  meantime  they  were  slip- 
ping away  from  her.  The  suffering  was  too  intense  to  last, 


110  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

and  besides  that  it  was  inevitable  that  a  strong,  healthful 
nature  like  hers  should  soon  throw  off  gloomy  thoughts. 
She  was  happy,  too,  for  her  benefactress,  though  the  loss  to 
her  seemed  an  irreparable  one. 

The  reader  has  guessed  of  course,  to  whom  Frederica  was 
to  be  married. 

Three  months  before  Herr  Gaussen  had  been  seized  with  a 
desire  to  see  something  of  the  United  States  of  America.  He 
came  oyer,  spent  some  time  among  the  northern  cities,  vis- 
ited the  Great  Lakes  and  the  Niagara  Falls,  went  to  Califor- 
nia, and  while  there  decided  to  return  by  the  southern  route 
and  visit  some  old  friends  in  Texas. 

He  spent  a  few  days  with  them  and  then  started  on  his 
homeward  journey.  One  day  just  before  noon  he  stood  in  the 
waiting  room  of  a  railway  station  in  San  Antonio.  He  would 
find  out  what  time  the  northern  bound  train  went  out,  then 
leave  his  valise  there  and  stroll  about  the  town  awhile.  His 
intention  was  to  go  immediately  to  New  York  and  thence  to 
Hamburg.  His  thoughts  had  turned  with  new  anxiety  to  his 
business  and  to  his  children  whom  he  had  left  in  the  care  of 
one  of  his  sisters. 

He  stepped  to  the  window  to  make  some  inquiries.  The 
agent  stood  ready  to  serve  him,  when,  in  that  instant,  these 
words  flashed  through  his  mind,  distinctly  as  if  some  one 
spoke  to  him:  "Go  to  Salta,  Mexico." 

He  hesitated  and  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead.  The  agent 
inquired  in  a  business-like  way: 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Sir? " 

"Excuse  me,  nothing  I  think,  thank  you,  "  he  replied  and 
walked  away  from  the  window  and  out  on  the  platform. 

"  Go  to  Salta,  Mexico !  "  he  repeated.  '  *  What  for?  "  Fred- 
erica  lived  there,  as  he  happened  to  know;  but  he  had  not 
thought  of  seeing  her  on  this  journey,  or  of  ever  seeing  her 
again.  He  had  thought  of  her  often  since  his  wife's 
death;  he  could  very  easily  have  returned  to  all  his  old  ten- 
derness for  her,  but  he  had  had  no  intimation  of  any  change 


REVELATIONS.  Ill 

in  her  feelings  with  regard  to  the  things  which  had  separated 
them.  In  fact  he  had  heard  almost  nothing  about  her  since 
their  parting  so  long  ago.  He  knew,  however,  that  she  had 
never  married.  This  mysterious  injunction  to  go  to  Salta, 
Mexico,  must  have  some  connection  with  her;  * '  it  must  mean 
—it  could  mean  nothing  else — "  he  caught  his  breath  and 
grasped  tightly  the  head  of  his  umbrella. 

He  had  not  failed  to  learn  in  all  these  years  of  his  Christian 
life  that  there  sometimes  come  to  men  promptings  from  the 
invisible  world,  promptings  which  must  be  obeyed,  or  which, 
if  they  should  be  disobeyed,  would  be  followed  by  leanness  of 
soul.  He  had  never  disobeyed,  he  doubted  if  it  were  possible. 
Would  he  obey  now?  He  could  not  do  otherwise.  Yet  how 
strange  it  was! 

There  rushed  into  his  soul  a  flood  of  tenderness  for  the 
woman  whom  he  had  loved  in  his  youth, — a  rushing,  impet- 
uous flood  that  swept  away  ever  barrier  that  had  lifted  itself 
like  granite  between  them.  How  distinctly  he  saw  now  the 
golden  head  and  the  innocent  eyes  that  had  been  his  joy  and 
pride! 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  hi  a  very  few  min- 
utes. There  was  nothing  unusual  in  the  appearance  of  the 
gentleman  who  stood  on  the  platform  meditating  in  this  way, 
his  silk  hat  in  one  hand  and  his  umbrella  in  the  other.  Those 
who  happened  to  notice  him  probably  thought  of  him  as  a  quiet, 
well-dressed,  distinguished  looking  German  gentleman.  A 
successful  business  man,  he  was,  evidently;  but  a  decided 
stamp  of  benevolence  and  culture  in  his  face  and  manner  con- 
vinced them  that  all  his  thoughts  had  not  been  devoted  to 
money-getting.  He  spoke  English  with  foreign  constructions 
and  a  strong  German  accent.  There  was  certainly  nothing 
in  his  appearance  to  indicate  that  God  had  spoken  to  him; 
yet  it  was  true. 

He  turned  suddenly.  He  would  obey  the  divine  command; 
in  fact  he  would  have  obeyed  with  almost  equal  promptness 
if  all  his  feelings  had  urged  him  to  do  otherwise. 

He    walked    briskly   to    the  ticket    window  and   rapped. 


112  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

1 '  I  wish  to  go  to  Salta,  Mexico, "  he  said  as  the  agent  came 
up.  "  Does  the  train  pass  this  station?  " 

''No,  you  will  have  to  cross  the  town." 

"What  time  is  the  train  due?  " 

"In  a  few  minutes. " 

"  Can  I  make  it?  "  he  asked  with  a  start. 

"You  may,  possibly,"  replied  the  agent  indifferently,  "but 
you  will  have  to  get  a  move  on  you  if  you  do." 

"Thank  you,"  exclaimed  Herr  Gaussen,  and  seizing  his 
valise  he  rushed  out.  Fortunately  a  hack  was  near. 

"  Here,  my  man,  what  will  you  charge  to  carry  me  to  the 
other  station?  " 

"A  dollar,  sir,"  replied  the  driver,  seeing  an  opportunity 
to  make  a  few  extra  cents  off  a  man  in  a  hurry. 

Herr  Gaussen  was  already  in  the  hack.  '  *  I'll  pay  you  a 
dollar  and  a  half,"  he  said,  "if  you  will  set  me  down  there  in 
time.  But  you  will  have  to  get  a  move  on  you, "  he  added, 
considering  that  phrase,  which  he  had  just  learned,  to  be  the 
correct  one  to  describe  rapid  locomotion. 

He  reached  the  station,  made  a  few  rapid  inquiries,  bought 
a  ticket  to  Eagle  Pass,  and  gained  the  platform  of  the  train 
just  as  it  moved  off. 

When  he  had  mechanically  deposited  his  valise  on  the  seat 
and  settled  himself  comfortably  with  a  black  skullcap  on  his 
head,  and  a  newspaper  spread  out  before  him  as  if  he  intended 
to  read,  he  had  time  for  thought.  And  thoughts  rushed  and 
crowded  and  stumbled  over  each  other  in  his  mind.  But  the 
prevaling  feeling  was  one  of  awe,  awe  in  which  there  was  no 
fear.  It  made  him  tremulous  in  every  limb,  but  his  heart 
was  flooded  with  a  soft,  steady  radiance.  A  voice  had  come 
to  him  from  the  unseen  world;  the  silent  chimes  of  the  uni- 
verse had  been  condensed  into  sound  which  his  soul  could 
hear;  God  had  spoken.  With  moist  eyes  and  quivering  lips 
he  exclaimed  silently:  "The  Lord  is  so  good!  and  to  me,  a 
sinful  man. " 

Have  revelations  ceased?  The  canon  is  closed,  it  is  true; 
we  can  expect  no  more  revelations  which  shall  be  addressed 


REVELATIONS.  113 

to  the  whole  human  race.  The  vision  of  the  prophet  of 
Patmos  swept  down  to  where  the  stream  of  time  empties  in-, 
to  the  ocean  of  eternity,  and  farther  out  into  eternity  than 
any  other  man  can  ever  hope  to  see.  No  doubt  God  has 
spoken  to  the  Jews  as  a  people  for  the  last  time  before  the 
close  of  this  dispensation.  But  has  he  not  always  spoken  to 
both  Jews  and  Gentiles  by  special  revelation?  There  was  a 
time,  about  400  years,  between  Malachi  and  John  the  Baptist, 
when  no  prophet  raised  a  voice  to  rebuke  or  warn  or  console; 
but  in  all  that  time  did  Jehovah  give  no  sign  to  the  sons  of 
men  that  he  lived?  Yes;  there  were  answered  prayers;  there 
was  special  guidance  for  individuals;  there  was  that  sweet 
and  wonderful  thing  which  we  call  the  Providence  of  God. 

And  so  it  has  been  since  the  Beloved  John  fell  asleep.  Do 
they  not — these  divine  messages — sometimes — at  long  inter- 
vals, it  is  true,  but  still  sometimes — do  they  not  ring  out,  or 
speak  in  still,  small  voices  in  our  souls,  coming  to  us  in  the 
midst  of  our  commonplace  surroundings  and  occupations,  and 
thoughts,  filling  us  with  joyful  awe?  Are  not  these  among 
the  secrets  of  the  Lord  which  many  of  us  keep  and  ponder  in 
our  hearts,  holding  them  too  sacred  to  be  exposed  to  public 
gaze? 

Some  such  reflections  as  these  occupied  the  mind  of  Herr 
Gaussen  as  the  hours  of  the  day  and  night  passed  and  the 
train  swept  along  through  Southern  Texas,  across  the  Rio 
Grande  and  down  into  Mexico. 

Then  he  lived  over  all  his  acquaintance  with  Frederica,  all 
the  love-making  in  their  happy,  youthful  days.  To  him  she 
had  been  like  "  an  apple  tree  among  the  trees  of  the  wood," 
so  fair  and  gracious  and  fragrant.  Should  he  win  her  now? 
Perhaps  he  was  being  sent  to  her  for  some  other  purpose. 
But  no-  it  was  a  part  of  his  feeling  about  the  going  that  he 
should  win  her.  Then,  if  he  was  to  marry  her,  "as  he  was 
to  marry  her,"  he  said,  correcting  himself — her  religious 
opinions  must  have  changed;  for  if  they  had  not  she  would 
not  marry  him,  neither  would  he  desire  to  marry  her,  for 
there  could  be  no  congeniality  between  them,  and  worst  of 


114  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

all,  she  would  not  be  a  suitable  mother  for  his  children.  She 
had  changed;  he  should  win  her  at  last;  it  had  been  revealed 
to  hun. 

What  a  loving  mother  she  would  make  for  his  children!  his 
ambitious,  manly  boys,  his  fair,  gentle,  little  daughters!— 
his  daughters,  so  like  the  lovely  and  loved  wife  whom  he  had 
lost.  She  could  never  lose  a  place  in  his  heart,  he  felt  sure 
of  that,  whatever  new  ties  he  might  form. 

He  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  car  and  looked  about  him. 
It  seemed  to  him  the  Sahara  Desert  could  scarcely  be  more 
barren  than  this  part  of  Northern  Mexico  through  which  he 
was  passing.  The  paths  ran  off  through  the  dust  in  all  di- 
rections till  the  horizon  came  down  and  cut  them  off  or  they 
ended  at  the  base  of  picturesque  mountains  whose  outlines 
were  unsoftened  by  the  presence  of  vegetation.  The  whole 
landscape  was  glaring  and  parching  in  the  relentless  sunshine. 

Herr  Gaussen  was  never  given  to  puerile  impatience,  and 
especially  at  this  time  when  he  was  being  led  by  an  unseen 
Guide  he  felt  that  it  behooved  him  to  bide  His  time;  but  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never  seen  a  train  move  so  slowly. 

And  yet  it  was  not  one  of  those  ' '  accommodation  "  trains  that 
stop  for  wood,  that  stop  for  water,  that  stop  for  other  trains 
to  pass,  that  stop  in  the  depths  of  the  woods  apparently  to 
allow  the  passengers  to  gather  ferns  and  wild  flowers,  that 
stop — for  no  reason  that  the  passengers  can  divine,  that  get 
loose  from  the  engine  and  run  backward  as  if  they  were  going 
on  an  unwilling  errand. 

He  was  on  a  train  that  swept  on  steadily,  rapidly,  majes- 
tically, with  a  journey  before  it  to  be  made  on  time  to  Durango, 
which  was  as  far  as  the  road  had  then  gone  on  its  journey  to 
the  Pacific. 

He  was  at  the  station  at  last.  As  he  descended  from  the 
train  he  saw  a  plain  little  American  house,  that  had  evident- 
ly been  built  by  the  railroad  company,  and  a  few  Mexican 
houses. 

A  great  lumbering  diligence,  such  as  we  see  in  the  pictures 
in  the  history  of  France,  stood  ready  to  convey  the  passen- 


REVELATIONS.  115 

gers  to  Salta.  They  bestowed  themselves  inside  and  on  the 
top.  The  trunks  and  valises  were  strapped  on  the  top  and  at 
the  back,  the  driver  on  his  high  perch  drew  over  his  head  a 
sort  of  white  buggy  top  to  protect  himself  from  the  sun,  made 
his  long  whip  vibrate  and  crack  over  the  backs  of  the  eight 
mules  and  the  journey  began.  On  and  on  they  ploughed  their 
way  over  the  dusty,  barren  plain.  The  cloud  of  dust  arose 
and  covered  and  almost  stifled  them.  The  man  who  assisted 
the  driver  was  sometimes  on  the  top,  sometimes  climbing  over 
the  sides  of  the  diligence  like  an  immense  monkey.  Two 
gentlemen  discussed  with  animation  the  amusement  of  fencing 
and  the  rules  of  dueling.  The  uncouth -looking  man  with  the 
two  large  pistols  and  a  knife  in  his  belt  fell  into  a  very  un- 
belligerent  slumber. 

The  mountains  were  sometimes  near,  sometimes  far  off. 
Now  and  then  they  passed  arroyos,  great  ditches  with  per- 
pendicular sides,  cut  by  the  swift,  strong  currents  of  water 
which  pour  down  from  the  mountains  in  the  rainy  season. 
In  the  midst  of  some  of  these  arroyos  stood  pillars  of  earthr 
perpendicular  and  with  their  tops  on  a  level  with  the  land 
around  them.  The  capricious  current  had  cut  about  in  an 
unaccountable  way  leaving  them  standing  while  it  swept 
everything  else  before  it.  A  white-washed  shrine  stood  on 
the  top  of  a  very  steep  hill.  They  who  went  up  to  worship 
the  saint  within,  suffered  enough  labor  and  fatigue  to  expiate 
not  a  few  sins,  according  to  their  ideas. 

Now  they  came  to  an  hacienda,  the  one  from  whose  little 
chapel  the  Virgin  of  St.  John  was  brought  to  secure  rain. 
It  was  like  an  oasis  in  the  desert.  There  were  great  green 
trees,  and  a  yard  about  the  handsome  stone  house  full  of  many 
colored  flowers;  there  were  vineyards,  and  cactuses  as  large 
as  trees,  and  sparkling  streams  of  water. 

Then  they  came  in  sight  of  the  town  nestled  among  the 
mountains,  and  the  little  chapel  of  the  Holy  Wood  perched  on 
the  top  of  its  lonely  rock.  When  they  entered  the  town  the 
whip  poised  itself  over  the  backs  of  the  mules  and  aimed  and 
struck  like  a  serpent  at  one  and-  another  till  they  picked  up 


116  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

their  feet  and  flew,  and  the  heavy  diligence  bounded  and 
thundered  after  them  over  the  cobble  stones  of  the  streets. 
The  women  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town  who  sat  on  the  ground 
at  their  doors  looking  each  other's  heads,  suspended  their 
occupation  to  watch  the  flying  vehicle,  the  many  dogs  barked, 
the  passers-by  stopped  to  look,  the  inmates  of  the  houses 
came  to  the  doors  and  windows;  it  was  the  Passing  of  the 
Diligence. 

They  paused  once  to  deliver  the  mail  bag  at  the  post-office, 
and  then  rushed  on  again.  They  dashed  up  to  the  hotel  and 
dismounted  with  a  great  deal  of  hurry  big  and  loud  talking  on 
the  part  of  the  driver,  his  assistants  and  the  servants  of  the 
hotel. 

Herr  Gaussen  was  conducted  into  the  parlor  to  wait  till  his 
room  was  ready  for  him.  It  was  a  long  room;  there  was  an 
fatly  carpet  on  the  floor.  There  were  two  center  tables,  on 
one  of  which  was  a  wine  service,  and  on  the  other  a  chess- 
board. On  the  walls  were  mirrors  and  pictures  of  the  Virgin 
and  other  saints,  among  which  was  conspicuous,  that  of  the 
half -mad  St.  Francis  of  Assizi,  with  his  thin  face,  white  hair, 
penetrating  eyes,  and  bony  hands.  Herr  Gaussen  sat  down 
in  one  of  the  Vienna  rocking  chairs.  Presently  the  landlady 
came  in.  She  spoke  English;  and  that  was  a  mercy  for  Herr 
^Gaussen. 

"  Good  evening,  Sefior." 

" Good  evening,  Mam,"  replied  he,  rising  and  feeling  less 
helpless  as  he  heard  her  English  salutation. 

*  *  O,  seat  yourself,  cdballero,  have  the  goodness  to  seat  your- 
self." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  and  sat  down. 

"Wish  you  a  room,  Sefior? " 

"I  do,"  said  Herr  Gaussen. 

"Pardon,  Usted\  a  million  of  pardons.  The  room  is  not  ar- 
reglado  yet.  It  is  ready  in  a  few  minutes.  Usted  will  have 
to  wait  a  few  minutes.  Am  sorry,  sorry,"  said  the  hostess 
effusively. 

"That  makes  nothing,  nothing  at  all,  Mam,"  replied  the 
guest. 


REVELATIONS.  117 

After  this  display  of  their  proficiency  in  the  language  of 
DeFoe  and  Shakespeare,  her  ladyship  with  a  "with  per- 
mission," passed  into  the  court  and  went  to  the  room  which 
was  being  prepared  for  the  guest. 

When  Herr  Gaussen  entered  it  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after- 
wards he  saw  a  bare  floor  of  black  stone  which  was  still  damp 
from  the  wiping  up  with  a  cloth,  a  table  which  was  too  tall  for 
any  one  to  write  on  it  unless  it  were  the  giant  of  Gath,  a  rocking 
chair,  and  a  narrow  brass  bed  covered  with  a  fringed  purple 
and  white  counterpane.  At  the  head  lay  a  round  cotton  bol- 
ster whose  pink  calico  cover  shone  through  the  open  work  of 
the  case. 

A  wash  stand  containing  a  bottle  of  drinking  water  and  a 
metal  pan  and  pitcher  completed  the  furniture  of  the  room. 
There  was  no  window,  the  only  light,  when  the  folding  doors 
were  closed,  being  admitted  through  the  narrow  transom 
which  was  guarded  by  iron  bars. 

After  supper  he  wished  to  learn,  if  possible,  something  of 
the  residence  of  Frederica.  But  he  could  find  neither  host 
nor  hostess.  He  went  out  into  the  street  and  presently  reached 
the  plaza.  It  happened  to  be  the  16th  of  September — the 
national  Independence  Day.  The  platform  where  the  speeches 
had  been  read  that  morning  by  the  Director  of  the  college, 
the  Senor  Cure  and  other  prominent  men  of  the  town  was 
still  there  and  adorned  with  the  national  colors* 

The  band  was  playing  in  the  center  of  the  plaza  and  the 
young  gentlemen  were  promenading  in  one  direction  while  the 
young  ladies  walked  in  the  other  so  that  they  might  meet  and 
exchange  glances.  They  were  waiting  for  the  hour  appointed 
for  the  beginning  of  the  ball  in  the  casino  across  the  street. 
There  were  plenty  of  firecrackers,  sky-rockets,  Roman- 
candles,  and  other  simple  fireworks  to  attest  the  patriotism 
of  the  Mexican  youth. 

Herr  Gaussen  strolled  about  awhile  in  the  plaza,  and  at  the 
same  time  Frederica  and  others  of  the  family  sat  in  the  bal- 
cony of  their  house  and  looked  down  on  the  animated  scene, 
and  neither  dreamed  that  he  was  almost  in  the  presence  of 
the  other. 


118  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

After  a  while  Herr  Gaussen  went  back  to  the  hotel  and  made 
an  effort  to  sleep  on  that  uninviting  bed  till  the  morning. 
Then  he  again  attempted  to  learn  something  of  the  Senorita 
Van  Ness;  he  did  not  know  the  name  of  the  relatives  with 
whom  she  lived.  But  the  Sefior  and  the  Senora  had  attended 
the  ball  the  evening  before;  it  was  long  past  noon  when  they 
came  out  of  their  rooms.  Then  the  landlord,  who  also  spoke 
English,  assured  him  that  he  knew  quite  well  where  the  lady 
lived.  Herr  Gaussen  put  a  letter  into  his  hand  and  asked 
him  to  have  it  sent  to  her.  He  had  simply  written  her  that 
he  had  run  down  to  Salta  to  spend  a  few  days  and  that  he 
should  be  glad  to  call  to  see  her  that  evening  if  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  her. 

Within  a  half  hour  he  received  her  reply.  She  should  be 
glad  to  see  him,  she  assured  him  hi  an  equally  simple  and 
direct  way. 

The  afternoon  seemed  almost  interminable  to  him.  He 
went  out  and  walked  about  in  the  streets.  As  he  turned  a 
corner  his  attention  was  arrested  by  some  wild  shouting.  He 
stood  still.  Was  it  an  insurrection,  he  wondered.  The  next 
moment  he  saw  coming  down  the  street  a  long  line  of  uncouth 
men,  ragged  and  dirty,  many  of  them  with  their  pantaloons 
rolled  above  their  knees  and  the  sleeves  of  their  shirts  above 
their  elbows;  on  their  feet  they  wore  sandals.  There  were 
perhaps  fifty  of  them  walking  in  a  line  at  regular  distances 
from  each  other.  Each  of  them  carried  on  his  head  a  basket 
which  would  contain  nearly  a  bushel.  The  purple  grapes 
were  piled  high  up  in  them  and  hanging  over  the  edges. 
Over  the  tops  of  most  of  these  heaped  up  baskets  nodded 
roses  and  bunches  of  yellow  wild  flowers.  They  advanced 
with  a  regular  step,  some  of  them  holding  up  their  baskets 
with  both  hands  to  rest  their  heads.  But  not  once  did  they 
fail  to  re spond  boisterously  to  the  shout  of  the  leader.  '  *  Long 
live  the  Holy  Mary  of  Refuge,"  "Long  live  the  Holy  Christ 
of  the  Chapel, "  he  shouted,  and  they  responded,  * '  viva !  viva ! " 
They  were  the  grape-carriers,  the  "basket-carriers,"  as  they 
are  called.  In  the  months  of  August  and  September  many 


REVELATIONS.  119 

processions  of  these  basket-carriers  go  about  the  streets,  as 
in  those  months  the  laborers  of  every  landlord  in  this  grape- 
growing  district  are  bringing  the  grapes  from  his  hacienda  to 
the  wine  cellars  of  his  town  house  where  the  wine  is  to  be 
made.  Their  shouting  at  the  bringing  in  of  the  vintage  was 
not  agreeable  to  many  of  the  citizens  of  Salta,  and  even  the 
president  of  the  town  had  mildy  remonstrated  with  them,  but 
the  sturdy  basket-carriers  had  reminded  him  that  it  was  a 
very  old  custom,  and  that  at  this  season  and  in  this  occupa- 
tion they  were  privileged  characters. 

Herr  Gaussen  stood  still  and  watched  them.  A  daintily 
dressed  child  of  less  than  two  years  had  escaped  from  its  nurse 
and  stood  just  outside  the  street  door  of  the  house  opposite. 
It  extended  its  dimpled  hand  to  salute  the  workman  nearest 
it.  He  stooped  under  his  heavy  load,  gently  shook  the  little 
hand,  and  then  passed  on.  Every  carrier  who  followed  him 
did  the  same  as  the  tiny  hand  was  extended  to  each  one. 

The  house  of  their  employer  was  only  a  little  farther  up 
the  street.  As  they  approached  the  wide  front  entrance  the 
leader  shouted  repeatedly,  according  to  long  established  cus- 
tom: ' '  Long  live  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe ! "  the  others  respond- 
ing each  time  with  gusto : ' '  Viva !  viva !  "  The  Virgin  of  Guada- 
lupe is  the  patron  saint  of  Mexico. 

They  passed  in,  traversed  the  first  court,  and  entered 
the  wine  cellar  which  opened  on  -the  second  court.  Herr 
Gaussen  followed  them  knowing  that  it  would  be  understood 
that  he,  as  a  foreigner,  wished  to  see  this  strange  phase  of 
the  country's  life. 

There  were  several  large  stone  vats  in  the  cellar;  in  all  of 
tbtem  barefooted  men  were  tramping  the  grapes  to  the  sound 
of  music.  They  waded  deep  in  the  juice  of  the  vine,  the 
perspiration  pouring  from  their  slightly  clad  bodies;  often 
they  slipped  and  fell  and  lay  in  the  red  liquid,  having  only 
strength  left  from  that  fatiguing  exercise  to  keep  their  heads 
above  the  surface. 

The  foreign  gentleman  wondered  how  much  of  the  fine  flavor 
of  the  celebrated  wine  which  issued  from  those  wine  presses 


120  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

was  due  to  the  manner  of  its  preparation.  It  also  occurred  to 
him  that  whatever  of  pastoral  poetry  there  was  in  the  vintage 
and  in  the  treading  of  the  wine  press  it  must  be  for  the  look- 
ers on  and  not  for  those  engaged  in  those  occupations.  It 
often  happens  so. 

At  length  Herr  Gaussen,  who  stood  talking  in  French  with 
the  overseer,  looked  at  his  watch  and  found  that  it  was  six 
o'clock.  He  excused  himself  and  hastened  back  to  the  hotel. 

He  did  not  remember  ever  having  in  his  life  given  so  much 
attention  to  his  toilette  as  he  did  this  evening.  The  supper 
was  late,  but  "it  was  over  at  last.  At  another  time  he  would 
have  been  amused  to  see  the  gentlemen  embracing  as  friend 
encountered  friend  in  the  dining  room,  to  see  the  elaborate 
bowing  and  waving  of  hands,  the  courteous  and  long-drawn- 
out  contests  as  to  which  should  pass  through  the  door  first, 
as  to  which  should  be  served  first.  But  now  he  ate  as  quickly 
as  possible  aud  hastened  away. 

At  last  he  and  Frederica  stood  face  to  face.  There  was 
nothing  extraordinary  about  their  meeting,  for  though,  when 
Frederica  had  read  his  note  she  had  hastily  closed  her  door 
and  knelt  by  her  bed,  trembling  and  burying  her  face  in  the 
snowy  cover,  and  had  with  the  greatest  difficulty  controlled 
her  thoughts  and  her  hand  to  reply  in  a  matter-of-fact  way 
she  had  schooled  herself  through  the  succeeding  hours  to  per- 
mit no  heightened  color  nor  trembling  of  the  hands  to  betray 
her. 

They  shook  hands  and  sat  down;  they  made  the  usual  in- 
quiries and  replies;  they  talked  of  his  tour  through  the  United 
States,  of  his  impressions  of  the  town,  of  mutual  friends  in 
Germany. 

But  when  they  first  looked  each  into  the  face  of  the  other 
a  great  heart  ache  had  seized  each  of  them  for  the  lost  youth 
of  the  other.  It  would  come  to  each  of  them  after  awhile 
that  whatever  there  was  of  lines  in  the  face  of  the  other  or  of 
silver  in  the  hair,  were  indications  of  a  riper  and  richer  charac- 
ter wrought  out  for  him  by  the  experiences  of  joy  and  sorrow 
through  the  revolving  years.  But  that  must  be  an  after 


REVELATIONS.  121 

knowledge;  in  the  first  moments  they  could  only  be  to  them 
signs  of  the  years  that  to  them  were  in  a  certain  sense  lost 
years. 

Gretchen  and  her  husband  came  hi  and  were  presented  to 
their  cousin's  friend.  They  talked  awhile  pleasantly  and 
then  went  out.  No  indication  was  given  that  either  of  them 
thought  of  their  former  acquaintance  till  he  held  her  hand  at 
parting  and  said:  "I  should  like  to  call  to  see  you  to-morrow 
evening,  Frederica,"  then  there  was  something  hi  his  tone 
and  in  the  way  he  looked  at  her  that  sent  the  hot  blood  to  her 
cheeks. 

But  she  answered  indifferently  enough: 

' '  We  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  whenever  it  is  convenient  for 
you  to  visit  us." 

The  next  evening  she  and  Heir  Gaussen  sat  talking  as  the 
evening  before.  She  sat  on  the  sofa  and  he  hi  an  arm  chair 
about  two  yards  from  her.  He  was  thinking,  "What  is  the 
use  of  delay?  She  must  know  what  has  brought  me  to  Salta. ;' 
He  would  speak  his  mind  tonight  if  he  could  only  bring  it 
about  to  do  so  naturally.  If  he  could  only  annihilate  that 
two  yards  of  space  between  them!  He  remembered  that  if 
Marshal  Ney's  division  could  have  reached  the  summit  of 
Mont- Saint- Jean,  Napoleon  would  have  gained  the  battle  of 
Waterloo.  But  there  were  difficulties  La  the  way.  Once  he 
arose  and  walked  to  the  window,  making  some  remark  about 
the  plaza,  intending  to  sit  down  on  the  sofa  by  her  side.  But 
he  returned  to  his  chair.  He  was  becoming  desperate;  he 
was  little  accustomed  to  cowardice  or  embarrassment  in  the 
presence  of  men  or  women.  Presently  he  bethought  him  of 
a  railroad  map  which  he  had  in  his  pocket.  He  took  it  out 
saying: 

"I  was  trying  to-day  to  get  a  correct  idea  of  the  railroad 
system  of  Mexico.  Perhaps  you  will  assist  me. "  It  was  only 
natural,  then,  as  well  as  necessary  that  he  should  go  and 
sit  down  by  her  that  she  might  explain  to  him  that  interesting 
subject. 

"The  two  longest  ttnes,"  she  said,  "connect  points  on  the 


122  MRHCEDES,   A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Texas  boundary  line  with  the  City  of  Mexico.  They  are, 
this  one  from  Laredo  through  Monterey,  Saltillo  and  San 
Luis  Potosi  to  the  City.  It  is  a  narrow  guage  road  It  is 
called  the  National,  you  see.  The  other  great  line  is  the 
Central,  from  El  Paso,  away  up  here  in  the  North-west  cor- 
ner of  Texas,  to  the  City.  Then  this  one,  the  International, 
from  Eagle  Pass  on  the  Texas  line  to  the  Pacific.  You  see  it 
has  only  reached  Torrion  as  yet,  but  it  will  be  built  on  through 
Durango  to  the  ocean.  There  is  a  road  from  Mexico  City  to 
Vera  Cruz;  and  besides  these  great  trunk  lines  there  are  sev- 
eral branches." 

Now  Herr  Gaussen  was  not  feeling  the  least  interest  in  all 
this;  he  could  scarcely  be  said  to  hear  it;  but  it  was  a  matter 
of  no  little  consequence  to  him  that  his  hand  sometimes 
touched  hers  as  they  glided  about  over  the  map.  However 
he  folded  it  up  so  soon  and  changed  the  conversation  that  it 
occurred  to  her  that  he  had  not  felt  so  much  interest  in  the 
development  of  the  country  as  she  had  at  first  thought. 

Presently  he  said,  "Frederica,  I  suppose  you  have  guessed 
why  I  came  to  Salta;  'were  you  glad  to  see  me? "  then  he 
thought  that  "Glad  to  see  me,"  was  the  most  unbecoming 
thing  he  could  have  said,  and  her  reply  proved  it  to  him. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  had  business  in  Salta;  and  of  course 
I  am  always  glad  to  see  old  friends." 

Then  followed  a  long  and  awkward  pause.  She  had,  as  if 
carelessly,  moved  farther  away  from  him.  He  looked  at  her 
curiously;  should  he  have  to  win  her  by  some  long  process? 
Perhaps  he  had  been  to  hasty.  But  almost  without  resolving 
to  do  so  he  made  another  effort. 

"Are  you  still  a  Catholic?  "  he  asked.  He  would  not  again 
call  her  "Frederica,"  but  he  could  not  address  her  as  a  mere 
acquaintance. 

She  felt  the  color  coming  into  her  face  under  his  gaze  but 
she  replied  quietly: 

"No,  I  am  not  a  Catholic  now.  I — I  began  to  read  the 
Bible  months  ago.  I  could  not  read  it  and  remain  a  Roman- 
ist." She  looked  up  at  him  and  met  h^s  eyes.  The  tender- 
ness and  solemn  joy  in  them  thrilled  her. 


REVELATIONS.  123 

"Frederica,"  he  said,  "Frederica,  if  you  had  said  such 
words  as  those  to  me  fifteen  years  ago  our  lives  would  have 
been  very  different." 

He  saw  her  lips  tremble  and  her  bright  head  was  bowed. 

1 '  It  is  not  too  late  yet.     Will  you  marry  me  now?  " 

We  know  how  she  answered  him.  Some  time  that  evening 
she  told  him  how  the  Sefiora  Urbina's  contemptuous  words 
about  the  congregations  of  ignorant  people  who  gathered  for 
the  study  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  had  reminded  her  of  the 
little  New  Testament  which  had  been  sent  her  by  some  one 
soon  after  their  parting.  ' '  I  knew  you  sent  it,  but  I  would 
not  read  itf  then.  But  I  could  not  throw  it  away.  I  carried 
it  everywhere  I  went.  I  took  it  out  of  my  trunk  at  last, — it 
has  been  six  months  ago — and  read  it,  and  it  was  after  that 
that  the  great  change  came.  You  know  how  that  is." 

1 '  Yes, "  he  said  gently,  ' '  I  know. " 

* '  I  have  been  very  wicked  and  rebellious.  I  have  not  de- 
served that  God  should  be  so  kind  to  me  now." 

Then  he  told  her  about  the  strange  command  to  come  to 
Salta,  and  she  held  her  breath  as  she  listened.  But  just  be- 
fore he  left  she  said  with  a  little  laugh  and  a  blush:  "And  so 
you  knew  all  the  time  that  I  would  marry  you  at  last,  not- 
withstanding my  pretended  indifference." 

"Yes,"  he  replied  with  a  smile,  "I  knew  it." 


124  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XTV. 

A  CIVIL  MARRIAGE. 

day  or  two  afterward  while  Herr  Gaussen  was  dining 
with  the  family,  Herr  Bunnsen  said  to  him: 

'  *  By  the  way;  I  had  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  you  have  to 
notify  the  civil  judge  and  have  the  bans  published.  I  will  go 
with  you  this  afternoon  to  his  office." 

"How  is  a  marriage  published  here? " 

"A  written  notice  of  it  is  pasted  on  the  public  buildings 
where  it  will  attract  attention  two  weeks  before  the  marriage 
is  to  take  place.  Come  to  think  of  it, "  he  continued  abruptly, 
"your  marriage  will  have  to  be  published  two  months  before- 
hand." 

"Why  is  that?",  asked  Herr  Gaussen,  laying  down  his 
orange  suddenly. 

' '  Because  you  don't  live  in  this  country.  The  object  of  the 
law  is  to  prevent  imposition.  When  both  the  parties  live  in 
the  same  town  or  state  fifteen  days  is  thought  to  be  long 
enough  for  any  imposition  to  be  exposed.  But  if  one  of  them 
lives  in  a  foreign  country  a  notice  of  his  approaching  mar- 
riage must  be  sent  to  his  home  and  published  there  so  that  if 
there  is  any  impediment  to  the  marriage  the  civil  judge  may 
be  notified  of  it." 

"And  is  there  no  help  for  it?  I  am  extremely  anxious  to 
get  back  to  my  business  and  my  family, — and  especially  as  I 
shall  have  the  pleasure  of  carrying  your  cousin  with  me,"  he 
added  with  a  pleasant  glance  at  Frederica. 

"It  is  too  bad  that  you  should  be  detained  so  long,"  she 
said. 

"But  after  all  you  will  have  an  opportunity  to  see  some- 
thing of  the  land  of  the  Montezumas,"  said  Gretchen  by  way 
of  consolation. 


A  CIVIL  MARRIAGE.  125 

-'Yes,"  said  Herr  Bunnsen,  "there  are  some  things  that 
are  really  worth  seeing.  I  will  see  if  I  can  find  time  to  run 
about  with  you  a  little; — unless  you  think  the  time  would  pass 
more  quickly  and  pleasantly  here  in  Salta,"  he  added  with  a 
mischievous  glance  at  Frederica. 

"  Perhaps  we  might  all  go  south  and  visit  the  most  inter- 
esting cities,  and  to  Yucatan,  too,  and  to  Central  America  to 
see  those  wonderful  ruins  I  studied  about  at  school.  O  let's 
do,  papa!"  said  Helena  getting  up  and  going  round  to  her 
father's  side  to  put  her  arm  about  his  neck.  She  made  a  very 
pretty  picture. 

"I  wonder  if  you  wouldn't  like  to  go  on  to  Peru  and  Para- 
guay," said  he,  pinching  her  cheek.  "But  couldn't  we, 
mother,  arrange  to  run  down  to  Mexico  and  Pueblo  for  a  few 
weeks?  My  business  will  take  me  in  that  direction." 

' '  Why,  yes,  I  should  think  we  might  if  it  is  agreeable  to 
Herr  Gaussen  and  Prederica.  We  promised  Helena  a  little 
trip  during  her  vacation." 

* '  I  assure  you  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
kindness,  but  I  must  be  getting  back  to  Germany  as  soon  as 
possible.  And  Miss  Helena  will  think  there  are  no  ruins  here 
worth  looking  at  after  she  has  seen  a  few  ruined  castles  on 
the  Rhine." 

It  had  been  decided  that  Helena  should  accompany  Fred  - 
erica  to  Germany  to  finish  her  education. 

"But  you  know  I  should  see  those  afterwards  anyhow,  the 
one  you  used  to  live  in,  Aunt,  and  others  besides.  But  after 
all  I'm  not  so  sure  they  are  more  interesting  than  those  here. 
O  I  could  explain  the  ruins  here  to  you  Herr  Gaussen.  I 
have  read  about  them  till  I  feel  quite  learned  on  that  subject." 
And  she  went  back  to  her  place,  for  her  mother  had  frowned 
a  little  at  her,  the  most  serious  form  of  rebuke  she  ever  ad- 
ministered to  her  rose-bud-faced  daughter. 

"But  really  it  is  a  good  law,  that  about  the  publication  of 
the  bans,"  said  Herr  Bunnsen,  returning  to  the  original  sub- 
ject of  conversation.  "  It  is  one  of  the  best  laws  made  by  the 
Constituent  Congress.  Juarez  was  one  of  the  ruling  spirits 


126  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

in  that  Congress.  He  was  a  fine  man,  a  wonderful  man,  I 
might  say.  He  was  wise  and  far  seeing  and  moderate.  He 
was  an  Indian  of  pure  blood.  One  who  is  acquainted  with 
his  public  career  can  scarcely  believe  that  when  he  was  twelve 
years  old  he  could  not  read  and  did  not  know  a  word  of  Spanish. 
It  makes  one  smile  to  think  he  was  educated  for  the  church; 
for  the  Catholic  Church  has  never  had  a  more  powerful  and 
inveterate  enemy  in  Mexico.  The  reasons  for  the  laws  made 
>by  this  Congress  are  very  forcibly  stated;  this  is  especially 
the  case  when  they  speak  of  the  introduction  of  civil  marriage 
instead  of  religious  marriage.  Helena,  if  you  will  bring  me 
that  thin  red  book  on  the  third  shelf  of  my  book  case  I  will 
read  Herr  Gaussen  a  little  of  it.  While  he  is  spending  these 
two  months  with  us  we  must  teach  him  something  about  our 
national  history,"  he  added  with  a  smile.  They  speak  thus 
of  marriage: 

"The  restoration"  (to  the  officers  of  the  civil  law  of  the 
right  to  preform  the  marriage  ceremony,)  "was  not  only  just 
and  logical,  but  to  the  last  degree  necessary  on  account  of  the 
enormous  abuses  which  the  spirit  of  faction  and  other  causes 
not  less  worthy  of  condemnation  had  introduced  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  matrimony  by  the  clergy.  What  right,  what  plaus- 
ible reason  could  recommend  that  the  foundation  of  society 
and  of  the  most  interesting  relations  in  the  life  of  a  man 
should  be  left  to  the  mercy  and  arbitrary  power  of  bishops 
sworn  against  liberty  and  the  laws  of  the  nation?  Ought  it 
to  be  tolerated  longer  that  matrimony  should  be  in  their  hands 
a  weapon  of  sedition,  and  that  men  whose  only  crime  has 
been  to  obey  the  laws  of  their  country  should  not  be  able  like 
all  other  men  to  make  legitimate  the  election  of  the  companion 
of  their  lot  and  of  their  life?  Should  it  be  longer  permitted 
that  in  many  cases  money  should  be  one  of  the  accepted  means 
for  dispensing  with  the  impediments  to  marriage?  And  should 
it  be  allowed  that  in  a  democracy  poverty  should  often  be  a 
positive  impediment  to  marriage  irreproachable  so  far  as 
morality  and  justice  are  concerned?"1 

lNote. — It  is  said  that  before  the  laws  took  marriage  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  Church  matrimony  was  impossible  for  about  two-thirds  of  the 


A  CIVIL  MARRIAGE.  127 

"  Now  how  does  that  strike  you?"  asked  Herr  Bunnsen. 

4 'That  is  very  good.  I  do  not  doubt  I  should  admire  it 
very  much  if  the  author  did  not  interfere  with  my  plans  just 
at  this  time.  But  what  does  he  mean — exactly — by  civil 
marriage?  " 

'  *  That  means  that  in  this  country  no  priest  nor  minister 
of  the  gospel  of  any  denomination  can  unite  persons  in  mat- 
rimony. It  is  declared  by  the  laws  of  Mexico  to  be  a  union 
of  Church  and  State,  and  they  will  have  none  of  it.  You 
will  have  to  be  married  by  the  civil  judge  or  go  up  to  the 
United  States  where  they  have  union  of  Church  and  State  to 
that  extent,  to  be  married  by  a  minister  of  the  gospel." 

'  *  So  they  consider  that  a  religious  marriage  indicates  union 
between  Church  and  State  ?  " 

"You  see  how  it  is.  In  the  United  States  a  minister  of  the 
gospel,  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  is  such,  is  entitled  to 
the  privilege  of  performing  the  marriage  ceremony.  The 
civil  marriage  is  not  objectionable  when  one  becomes  accus- 
tomed to  the  idea,"  he  added  after  a  pause.  "A  minister  of 
one's  own  faith  can  be  invited  to  be  present  and  to  pray. 
The  Catholics  go  through  the  whole  ceremony  of  marriage 
in  their  churches  after  the  civil  marriage,  and  the  priests  as- 
sure the  parties  that  the  religious  marriage  alone  is  valid, 
while  the  law,  at  the  same  time  that  it  permits  the  religious 
marriage  by  a  wise  toleration,  declares  that  it  amounts  to 
nothing.  The  ministers  of  some  of  the  Protestant  denomina- 
tions also  perform  the  marriage  ceremony  after  the  civil 
marriage,  declaring  at  the  same  time  with  charming  naivete 
that  it  is  a  mere  farce.  I  was  present  once  at  one  of  these 
mock  marriages.  It  was  in  a  Protestant  chapel.  The  bride 
was  in  white  dress,  veil  and  orange  blossoms.  The  pastor, 

inhabitants  of  Mexico,  because  they  could  not  afford  to  pay  a  priest  to 
perform  the  ceremony.  Even  since  the  adoption  of  the  law  which  makes 
marriage  a  civil  contract  a  large  proportion  of  the  ignorant  people,  if 
they  can  possibly  save  the  money,  are  married  by  the  Church  alone, 
being  taught  by  the  priests  that  the  civil  marriage  is  not  valid.  Few 
besides  the  well-to-do  are  married  both  ways;  and  fewer  still,  except 
those  whom  the  Church  calls  heretics,  will  risk  their  souls  and  sacrifice 
their  respectability  by  being  married  by  the  civil  law  alone. 


128  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

after  telling  them  that  they  were  already  married,  went 
through  the  whole  ceremony  as  if  he  were  uniting  them  in 
marriage." 

"Well,"  said  Herr  Gaussen,  taking  out  his  watch,  "do  you 
suppose  the  civil  judge  has  finished  his  siesta  by  this  time  and 
opened  his  office?  I  am  anxious  to  see  if  he  can  on  any 
grounds  give  me  a  dispensation  that  will  make  it  possible  for 
us  to  go  home  in  less  than  two  months." 

"Ah,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Herr  Bunnsen  as  he  took  down 
the  hats,  "you  ought  to  have  brought  with  you  in  your  pock- 
ets, some  papers  duly  signed  by  the  civil  officers  of  your  town 
testifying  that  you  were  a  proper  subject  for  matrimony.  A 
marriageable  man  should  never  leave  home  to  travel  in  a 
foreign  country  without  such  papers,  for  though  he  may  have 
no  intention  when  he  starts  of  looking  for  a  companion,  there 
is  no  telling  what  may  happen  before  he  returns  to  his  father- 
land!" 

"Oscar!"  said  the  Senora  de  Bunnsen,  in  a  shocked  tone. 

Herr  Gaussen  only  smiled  as  he  said  good  evening  to  the 
ladies  and  bowed  himself  out. 

They  found  the  judge  in  his  office.  When  they  informed 
him  of  their  business  he  seated  himself  on  a  very  high  stool 
at  a  very  high  desk,  supporting  his  feet  on  a  box  and  did  the 
necessary  writing  in  a  large  book.  When  he  was  consulted 
about  the  time  it  was  necessary  for  the  bans  to  be  published 
he  said: 

"If  the  Sefior  knows  any  reliable  person  in  Mexico  who  can 
testify  that  he  is  eligible  for  matrimony  it  will  not  be  neces- 
sary to  wait  longer  than  two  weeks  if  his  testimony  can  be 
received  in  that  time.'' 

"Ah,  I  have  it!"  exclaimed  Herr  Gaussen.  "I  am  ac- 
quainted with  the  German  Consul  in  the  City  of  Mexico. " 

So  he  had  his  "dispensation  "  and  the  marriage  was  to  take 
place  in  two  weeks  after  all. 

The  evening  of  the  marriage  came.  Most  of  the  invited 
guests  were  present.  Curiosity  had  been  sufficient  to  bring 
them,  though  they  were  all  more  or  less  scandalized  that  the 


A  CIVIL  MARRIAGE.  129 

German  lady  whom  they  had  known  as  a  Catholic,  should 
marry  a  Protestant. 

Mercedes  was  there  in  her  dainty  white  dress,  broken- 
hearted over  the  coming  loss  of  her  friend,  and  uncertain 
whether  she  should  rejoice  or  be  sad  at  her  happiness,  since 
she  was  to  marry  a  Protestant.  But  she  could  not  help  think- 
ing when  Frederica  introduced  her  to  him  that  he  seemed  to 
be  in  every  way  worthy  of  even  her  beloved  teacher,  unless 
it  were  in  that  mysterious,  indefinable  moral  lack  which  pre- 
vented his  being  a  Catholic. 

The  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  civil  judge.  He  was 
accompanied  by  the  alcalde  (another  civil  officer),  and  by  two 
witnesses.  Besides  these  two  witnesses,  there  were  vtwo 
chosen  by  the  bride  and  two  by  the  groom.  Herr  Gaussen 
and  Frederica  stood  before  the  Judge. 

"Sefior  Gaussen,"  said  the  judge,  pronouncing  the  name 
as  well  as  he  could,  but  certain  that  no  one  would  have  known 
under  other  circumstances  whom  he  addressed,  "Do  you  re- 
ceive for  a  wife  the  Senorita  Van  Ness  who  is  present?  " 

"Yes,  Senor." 

"Senorita  Van  Ness,  do  you  receive  for  a  husband  the 
Senor  Gaussen  who  is  present?  " 

"Yes,  Senor.'' 

Then  at  his  request  they  joined  hands.  While  they  stood 
thus  he  read  them  some  articles  of  the  law  framed  by  the 
Constituent  Congress: 

1st,  That  matrimony  was  a  civil  contract;  2nd,  that  those 
who  were  married  were  entitled  to  all  the  rights  and  pre- 
rogatives which  the  civil  laws  conceded  to  the  married;  3rd, 
that  bigamy  and  polygamy  were  prohibited;  4th,  that  a  di- 
vorce could  be  obtained  for  certain  grave  causes  mentioned 
in  another  article,  but  that  this  legal  separation  did  not  leave 
the  divorced  free  to  marry  another  person. 

The  judge  then  said: 

"I,  as  judge  of  the  civil  register  of  this  municipality,  sol- 
emnly declare  that  I  have  concluded  this  civil  contract  be- 

9 


130  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

fore  the  witnesses  who,  with  me,  sign  the  deed,  and  that  you 
ar.e  legally  married  for  all  lawful  purposes." 

He  then  read  them  more  of  the  law  to  the  effect  "that  the 
man  whose  especial  gifts  are  courage  and  strength  ought  to 
give  and  will  give  to  the  woman  protection,  encouragement 
and  direction,  treating  her  always  as  the  more  delicate,  fine 
and  sensitive  part  of  himself,  and  with  the  magnanimity  and 
generous  benevolence  that  the  strong  owes  to  the  weak, 
especially  when  this  weak  one  has  delivered  herself  to  him, 
and  when  she  has  been  confided  to  him  by  society.  That  the 
woman,  the  principal  endowments  of  whose  sex  are  self- 
denial,  beauty,  compassion,  perspicacity  and  tenderness  ought 
to  give  and  will  give  to  the  husband,  obedience,  affability, 
assistance,  consolation  and  counsel,  treating  him  always  with 
the  veneration  which  is  due  to  the  person  who  supports  and 
defends,,  and  with  the  delicacy  of  one  who  would  not  wish  to 
exasperate  the  ruder,  more  irritable  and  sterner  part  of  her- 
self. That  each  should  treat  the  other  with  respect,  deffer- 
ence,  fidelity,  confidence  and  tenderness;  and  that  it  should 
be  the  aim  of  both  that  what  the  one  expects  from  the  other 
when  he  enters  into  this  contract  should  not  be  disappointed 
in  their  union.  That  each  should  try  to  moderate  and  to 
lessen  his  faults,  etc." 

Then  followed  various  quaint  and  wholesome  counsels  rel- 
ative to  the  future  years.  After  this,  the  deed  was  signed  by 
the  witnesses  and  by  Herr  Gaussen  and  Prederica. 

Then  followed  the  congratulations,  much  conversation,  an 
elegant  supper,  and  more  conversation,  during  all  of  which 
Herr  Gaussen,  though  unable  to  talk  except  with  one  or  two 
German  guests  and  two  or  three  gentlemen  and  ladies  who 
spoke  a  little  English,  conducted  himself  with  so  much  dignity 
and  grace  that  all  of  the  ladies  thought  it  "  a  great  pity  that 
such  a  nice  gentleman  should  be  a  Protestant." 

To  himself  and  to  Frederica  it  was  a  circumstance  to  be 
regretted  that  there  could  be  no  religious  exercises  in  con- 
nection with  their  marriage.  "  I  like  the  civil  marriage,"  he 


A  CIVIL  MARRIAGE.  131 

% 

said,  ' '  but  I  should  be  glad  if  we  could  have  a  prayer  by  a 
minister  of  the  gospel. "  But  in  the  few  minutes  that  he  and 
Frederica  were  left  alone  before  they  entered  the  parlor  to  be 
married  he  drew  her  hand  into  his  arm  and  they  bowed  their 
heads  while  he  prayed  that  their  union  might  be  for  the  glory 
of  God,  for  their  own  spiritual  good,  and  for  the  good  of  all 
with  whom  they  should  be  associated. 

The  next  morning  they,  accompanied  by  Helena,  started 
for  Germany.  Herr  Bunnsen  and  Gretchen  were  left  alone. 
They  soon  decided  to  join  their  boys  and  girl. 

After  they  were  gone  the  house  ;  *  remained  awhile  silent 
and  tenantless,  then  went  to  strangers;"  and  Mercedes  could 
never  again  enter  the  room  where  she  had  spent  so  many 
happy  hours  as  a  student. 


132  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

FROM  SAINT  IGNACIUS  DE  LOYOLO. 

I  HAVE  said  that  in  the  days  of  preparation  for  Frederica's 
marriage  that  Something  that  had  grasped  the  conscience 
of  Mercedes  gradually  relaxed  its  hold.  She  could  not  de- 
termine what  was  right  nor  what  was  wrong  in  her  conduct 
with  regard  to  the  masses  for  her  father,  and  it  seemed  to 
her  at  last  that  the  only  thing  for  her  to  do  was  to  let  it  slip 
out  of  her  mind  as  she  felt  that  it  was  doing. 

Her  father  was  becoming  to  her  a  sad,  sweet  memory.  She 
clutched  desperately  at  her  grief  for  him  as  she  felt  it  es- 
caping from  her;  but  she  could  not  reverse  the  order  of  a 
kind  Providence.  There  are  sickly  natures  which  bereave- 
ment blights  forever,  but  Mercedes  was  too  young  and  strong 
and  healthful  both  in  body  and  mind  not  to  recover  from  this 
grief. 

There  were  doubts  in  her  mind  in  these  days  about  the 
existence  of  purgatory,  but  she  was  sometimes  troubled  with 
doubts  about  the  existence  of  all  unseen  things.  Now  and 
then,  and  more  frequently  than  formerly  there  flashed  through 
her  mind  like  lightning,  the  thought,  "Is  there  a  God?  "  It 
always  frightened  her. 

In  the  conversation  of  the  gentlemen  who  frequented  the 
house  she  detected  a  tone  which  indicated  no  great  respect 
for  the  Church,  though  they  were  always,  she  noticed,  on 
their  guard  in  the  presence  of  Dona  Flavia.  She  was  con- 
vinced, though  she  had  been  slow  to  come  to  that  conclusion, 
that  Don  Francisco  was  no  admirer  of  the  Church.  When 
Dofia  Flavia  had  expressed  disgust  that  Frederica  should 
marry  a  Protestant  he  had  said  some  mild  words  of  defence. 
Everything  tended  to  produce  confusion  of  ideas  with  respect 
to  religion. 


FROM  SAINT  IGNACIUS  DE  LOYOLO.  133 

One  morning  she  and  Dofia  Flavia  and  the  children  sat  at 
the  breakfast  table.  A  servant  brought  in  some  little  papers 
which  had  been  thrown  at  the  door.  They  contained  the  day 
of  the  month,  an  advertisement  and  the  date  of  the  declara- 
tion of  the  infallibility  of  the  Pope.  Mercedes  read  it  and 
then  that  same  longing  to  know  the  truth  which  had  prompted 
her  to  make  startling  inquiries  before,  majde  her  look  up 
wistfully  at  Dona  Plavia  and  ask: 

' '  Dona  Flavia,  do  you  really  believe  in  the  infallibility  of 
the  Pope?  " 

That  lady  instantly  assumed  a  more  reserved  air  as  she 
looked  at  the  girl  curiously.  "Yes,  in  matters  pertaining  to 
the  Church  I  believe  he  is  infallible,"  she  replied.  "But," 
she  exclaimed  after  a  pause,  turning  her  beautiful  face  toward 
Mercedes  and  looking  at  her  with  wide  open  defiant  eyes  as 
if  she  represented  the  Papacy,  "  if  I  should  do  anything  that 
he  did  not  approve  of  and  he  should  excommunicate  me  and 
should  declare  that  I  never  could  be  saved  but  must  be  for- 
ever lost,  do  you  suppose  I  should  believe  him?  By  no  means. 
He  is  only  a  human  being  like  myself." 

Ah,  Dona  Flavia,  would  not  your  excommunication 'by  the 
Pope  be  a  matter  pertaining  to  the  Church?  It  is  marvelous 
how  Catholics  can  contradict  themselves.  Mercedes  was 
more  puzzled  than  ever,  but  then  both  sides  were  true  "some- 
how "  she  ought  to  believe,  and  she  did — of  course. 

' '  The  priests  teach  that  to  the  common  people  but  they 
never  try  to  make  us,  the  enlightened  class,  believe  it.  They 
know,  of  course,  that  it  is  not  the  truth,"  continued  the  lady. 

' '  Then  do  you  mean  to  say  that — that  the  priests  teach  what 
they  know  to  be  false?  " 

"Why,  yes,  of  course  they  teach  falsehoods  constantly  to 
the  common  people.  It  is  necessary  in  order  to  keep  them  in 
subjection  to  the  Church.  They  are  so  ignorant  that  the  priests 
can't  appeal  to  their  reason  and  therefore  they  must  be  con- 
trolled by  these  stories.  But  they  never  teach  them  to  us," 
she  reaffirmed  proudly. 

Ah,  Dona  Flavia,  are  you  quite  sure? 


134  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"But  is  it  right  to  tell  lies?"  asked  Mercedes.  The  doc- 
trine was  by  no  means  new  to  her;  she  was  only  trying  to 
understand  it  now  that  she  sat  at  the  feet  of  one  who  was  so 
capable  of  solving  her  difficulties. 

' '  O  yes,  when  any  good  is  to  come  of  it.  They  invent  and 
tell  these  stories,  you  know,  to  keep  them  in  the  fold  of  the 
Church.  Their. ignorance  makes  such  a  measure  necessary. 
It  is  also  because  of  their  ignorance  that  they  are  not  per- 
mitted to  read  the  New  Testament.  It  is  written  in  so  elevated 
a  style  that  they  could  not  understand  it.  They  would  get 
all  sorts  of  perverted  ideas  from  it;  and  therefore  it  is  best 
for  them  to  know  only  what  the  priests  think  proper  to  teach 
them  about  it. " 

Mercedes  wondered  if  there  was  danger  that  the  enlight- 
ened class  might  get  perverted  ideas  from  the  New  Testa- 
ment, for 'she  knew  that  they,  too,  were  forbidden  to  read  it. 
She  persisted,  though  she  knew  that  she  was  treading  on 
dangerous  ground: 

'  Then  it  is  right  to  tell  lies  under  certain  circumstances?" 
*  O  yes,  it  is  right  to  tell  them  when  it  is  done  for  the  good 
of  the  Church,"  replied  the  Catholic  lady  with  the  air  of  one 
who  was  giving  some  useful  and  important  information 

Just  then  Don  Francisco  passed  through  the  room.  He 
had  been  "giving  a  turn"  as  he  would  have  said,  in  the 
orchard.  His  wife  appealed  to  him: 

"  O,  Francisco,  am  I  not  right?  Is  it  not  right  to  tell  false- 
hoods when  any  good  is  to  come  of  telling  them  ? 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  the  gentleman,  with  a  su- 
perior air  and  very  emphatically,  "it  is  right  to  tell  false- 
hoods or  to  do  anything  else  from  which  good  is  to  result. " 
And  he  passed  out  of  the  room.  • 

"I  suppose,  then,  it  is. right  to  steal  under  certain  circum- 
stances, as  we  have  always  heard  that  it  was?  "  asked  Merce- 
des glancing  a  little  uneasily  at  the  children  who  had  lingered 
about  the  room  listening  at  the  conversation. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  lady  without  hesitation,  "under 
the  circumstances  designated  by  the  Church  stealing  is  right. 


FROM  SAINT  IGNACIUS  DE  LOYOLO.  135 

The  Fathers  established  degrees  with  regard  to  all  kinds  of 
theft.  One  may  steal  a  great  many  small  sums  from  different 
persons  and  not  commit  a  great  sin,  because  he  does  not  injure 
any  person  very  much ;  but  if  he  steals  the  amount  of  those 
small  sums  from  one  person  he  does  commit  a  grave  sin.  But 
there  are  cases  in  which  stealing  is  not  a  sin  at  all, "  continued 
the  good  lady  with  the  air  of  a  theologian. 

' '  For  example,  secret  compensation  is  right.  If  some  one 
owed  me  a  debt  and  would  not  pay  it  I  might  take  secretly  the 
property  of  the  debtor  to  the  value  of  the  debt.  If  one  should 
be  condemned  by  judgment  to  pay  a  debt  which  he  had  not 
contracted,  or  which  he  had  already  paid,  he  could  have  re- 
course to  secret  compensation.  A  servant,  if  he  is  not  paid 
enough,  or  if  he  is  overworked,  may  pay  himself  secretly  from 
the  property  of  his  master.  But  you  are  familiar  with  all 
this." 

' '  I  suppose  you  accept  the  teachings  of  the  Church  with  re- 
gard to  all  the  other  great  sins?  " 

' '  Yes,  it  has  been  decided  by  the  high  authorities  that  under 
certain  circumstances  it  is  not  wrong  to  commit  even  the 
greatest  sins — murder,  for  instance.  But  these  things  are 
above  our  comprehension.  It  is  our  duty  merely  to  submit  our- 
selves to  those  who  are  over  us  in  authority  and  ask  no  ques- 
tions. By  the  way,  Mercedes,"  she  said  with  her  low,  mu- 
sical laugh  as  she  arose  from  the  table,  ' '  are  you  overworked, 
or  do  I  owe  you  anything?  " 

' '  No,  Senora, "  said  the  girl,  lifting  her  head  proudly  and 
looking  her  full  in  the  face  as  the  blood  swept  over  her  fore- 
head and  cheeks.  •'  *  But  if  I  were  or  if  you  did,  I  would  not 
steal." 

' '  She  looks  on  me  as  one  of  the  common  people  to  whom 
the  priests  must  teach  lies.  As  common  as  I  may  be  I  would 
not  be  so  priest-ridden  as  to  believe  such  doctrines  as  she  has 
just  stated  in  the  presence  of  her  children! "  she  thought  as 
she  stepped  out  into  the  court  and  glanced  up  into  the  blue 
sky. 

"O  that  I  did  know  right  from  wrong,"  she  said  in  her 
heart,  " but  I'll  do  the  best  I  can." 


136  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ST.  FRANCISCO'S  DAY. 

°TNHERE  were  in  those  days  some  circumstances  connected 
with  the  home  life  in  Don  Francisco's  handsome  house 
which  had  the  effect  of  driving  serious  thoughts  from  Merce- 
des' mind.  In  the  last  days  of  September  and  the  first  of  Octo- 
ber there  was  much  preparation  and  secrecy  in  the  great  house. 
The  4th  of  October  was  Don  Francisco's  "Saint's  day,"  and 
every  member  of  the  family  was  busy  preparing  a  present  for 
him.  Dona  Flavia  was  making  a  handkerchief  case,  Mercedes 
a  pair  of  slippers,  one  of  the  little  girls  was  embroidering  his 
name  on  a  handkerchief,  the  others  were  making  other  pretty 
and  useful  things;  and  if  the  work  of  the  plump  little  hands 
was  not  perfect,  it  still  showed  much  youthful  skill,  and  the 
little  maidens  knew  as  they  sat  working  with  pursed-up 
mouths  that  their  loving  efforts  would  be  appreciated  by 
"Papa."  The  boys  had  bought  presents  with  their  own 
spending  money,  after  much  consultation  with  Mama  and 
Mercedes,  and  much  talking  around  Papa  to  see  what  he 
would  probably  like. 

You  must  know  that  in  this  country  "saint's  days,"  and 
not  birth  days,  are  kept.  The  child  is  generally  named  for 
the  saint  on  whose  day  it  is  born,  but  if  another  name  is  pre- 
ferred it  is  given  and  the  day  of  the  saint  who  bears  that 
name  is  kept  with  festivities  instead  of  the  birth  day.  It  was 
so  in  this  case;  Don  Francisco  was  born  in  June,  but  his 
mother  was  so  impressed  with  the  Roman  Catholic  virtues  of 
St.  Francis  of  Assizi  that  she  conferred  his  name  on  her  baby. 
Don  Francisco  had  made  up  his  mind  long  ago  that  his  distin- 
guished namesake  was  a  thief,  a  liar  and  a  madman,  but  it  did 
not  seem  to  him  desirable  on  that  account  to  set  himself  against 
what  seemed  to  him  a  delightful  custom  in  connection  with 


ST.  FRANCISCO'S  DAY.  137 

his  home  life.  If  any  one  in  Protestant  America  is  inclined 
to  blame  him,  let  him  remember  that  he  keeps  Christmas, 
another  Roman  Catholic  institution,  with  the  giving  of  gifts 
and  much  joy  fulness  of  heart.  As  to  Saint  Francis,  I  don't 
suppose  he  was  thought  of  on  that  day  unless  Dofia  Flavia, 
in  her  morning  devotions,  implored  his  continued  protection 
and  grace  for  her  husband. 

The  presents  were  given  after  breakfast,  and  they  were 
received  with  much  appreciation.  There  were  many  little 
reminders  of  love  and  esteem  from  relatives  and  friends  out- 
side the  family.  Don  Francisco  was  never  so  happy  as  on 
his  "saint's  day,"  unless  it  was  on  the  day  of  Dona  Flavia's 
saint;  and  he  remembered  this  one  afterward  as  the  happiest 
he  had  ever  had,  perhaps  because  it  contrasted  so  sharply 
with  the  days  which  followed.  Sad  changes  come  sometimes 
near  the  close  of  long  and  prosperous  lives.  But  there  was 
no  cloud  over  this  day;  if  Don  Francisco  felt  any  appre- 
hensions they  were  only  such  as  he  had  long  been  accustomed 
to. 

A  large  company  of  relatives  was  invited  to  dinner.  The 
grown  people  ate  at  a  long  table  in  the  dining  room,  the  chil- 
dren under  fifteen  years  old  at  tables  in  the  adjoining  rooms. 
The  Senor  Cure,  though  a  distant  relative  of  the  family,  did 
not  grace  this  feast  with  his  presence,  perhaps  because  such 
innocent  domestic  pleasures  were  too  tame  for  his  tastes. 
Don  Francisco  reflected  that  his  absence,  like  every  thing 
else,  contributed  to  his  happiness  to-day. 

"I  am  always,"  said  a  sister-in-law  of  Don  Francisco  to 
Mercedes,  speaking  from  the  fullness  of  her  heart  as  she 
passed  her  in  the  corridor  on  her  way  to  the  dining-room, 
'  'I  am  always  very  contented  when  Francisco  is  happy  with 
his  friends."  And  Mercedes  thought  a  minute  later  as  she 
glanced  at  the  faces  around  that  hospitable  board  that  they 
were  all  very  contented.  And  she  thought,  too,  how  well 
her  master  deserved  it  all.  •  If  there  was  any  lingering  re- 
sentment for  the  wrongs  done  to  her  people  she  said  to  her- 
self heartily  that  he  wras  not  to  blame  for  them;  he  was  noble 


138  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

and  good;  he  was  a  victim  of  a  system  just  as  she  was.  It 
was  very  pleasant  to  her  to  feel  in  unison  with  them  all  on 
that  day. 

In  this  gathering  of  intimate  friends  there  was  not  much  of 
that  ceremony  which  attracts  the  attention  of  foreigners  in 
the  hotels  and  on  the  streets.  Now  and  then,  notwithstand- 
ing the  attendance  of  numerous  servants  a  gentleman  arose 
from  his  seat,  and  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  table  and 
brought  a  dish  to  help  the  lady  by  his  side.  Don  Francisco, 
himself,  in  the  excess  of  his  hospitality  and  pleasure  went 
around  the  table  with  one  or  two  dishes,  stopping  now  and 
then  to  join  in  a  gay  conversation  or  start  one.  There  were 
thirteen  courses  before  the  dessert,  that  is,  four  or  five  more 
than  they  had  every  day.  According  to  invariable  custom 
the  first  was  soup  and  the  last  was  frijoles  or  dried  beans,  a 
dish  handed  down  'to  them  from  Aztec  ancestors.  The  latter 
were  brought  in  soup  plates  and  eaten  with  spoons.  Some 
of  the  dishes  were  so  red  and  some  so  green  that  the  Amer- 
ican lady  who  sat  at  one  end  of  the  table  reflected  as  she  ate 
them  that  if  they  would  not  hurt  Mexicans  they  would  not 
poison  Americans  either.  There  were  roast  and  turkey  in 
dishes  of  gravy  that  was  not  only  fiery  in  color  but  fiery  in 
taste,  too,  from  the  abundant  accompaniment  of  the  national 
chile  or  red  pepper.  There  was  "coffee  with  milk,"  as  they 
would  have  said,  not  meaning  to  indicate  by  that  expression 
that  the  sugar  was  wanting.  There  was  an  abundance  and  a 
variety  of  wines.  For  dessert  a  small  glass  dish  of  very 
sweet  preserves  was  set  before  each  person.  This  he  ate 
without  bread  or  cake.  Then  followed  fruit,  and  at  last  the 
wine  glasses  were  lifted  all  at  the  same  time  and  while  they 
were  held  thus  one  of  the  gentlemen  addressed  to  the  host  a 
speech  of  congratulation,  to  which  he  replied  with  a  bow,  a 
smile  and  a  graceful  wave  of  the  hand;  each  couple  then 
clinked  their  glasses  together  and  the  wine  was  drunk.  This 
ceremony  was  repeated  several  times.  But  there  was  no 
intemperate  drinking  in  the  dining-room. 

The  children  in  one  of  the  adjoining  rooms  gaily  followed 


ST.  FRANCISCO'S   DAY.  139 

the  example  of  a  handsome  but  naughty  nephew  of  Dona 
Flavia's  and  drank  the  glasses  of  wine  which  they  found  by 
their  plates,  and  before  touching  their  soup  sent  a  servant  to 
the  dining  room  asking  for  more  wine. 

This  was  very  amusing  to  the  company.  One  benevolent- 
looking  old  gentleman  who  occupied  a  seat  of  honor  near  Don 
Francisco's  chair,  the  grandfather  of  several  of  the  children, 
was  especially  amused;  he  called  the  attention  of  all  those 
near  him  to  the  fact  that  "before  those  children  had  begun 
to  eat  they  had  drunk  all  their  wine  and  had  sent  for  more/' 

A  nurse  passed  through  the  dining  room  with  a  baby,  a  baby 
as  rosy  and  dimpled  and  divine-looking  as  any  a  Madonna 
ever  clasped.  A  wine  glass  was  pressed  to  his  laughing, 
rose-bud  lips.  Mrs.  Peek,  the  American  lady  whose  husband 
Tiad  recently  been  employed  by  Don  Francisco  as  overseer  of 
his  vineyards,  and  who  was  stopping  with  the  family  until 
her  husband  could  rent  a  house,  thought  she  understood  now 
why  it  was  that  one  of  the  little  girls  of  the  family  sometimes 
slipped  into  the  pantry  and  drank  wine  until  she  had  to  sleep 
off  the  effects  of  it. 

Mercedes  sat  by  a  gentleman  of  middle  age,  a  lawyer  from 
a  neighboring  city.  He  had  found  that  he  had  by  his  side  a 
bright  girl,  an  interested  listener,  and  he  was  taking  a 
kindly  pleasure  in  talking  to  her.  He  told  her  something 
of  his  college  days  in  the  City  of  Mexico  and  afterwards  with 
the  Jesuits  in  California. 

•*I  was  hi  college  hi  the  City  of  Mexico,"  he  said,  "during 
the  reign  of  Maximilian  and  Carlotta.  The  Grand  Duke" — 
true  patriot  that  he  was,  he  would  not  say  "the  Emperor" — 
"The  Grand  Duke  was  very  handsome,  handsomer  than  the 
Grand  Duchess,  but  both  of  them  wrere  kind  and  were  liked  by 
the  Mexicans.  Maximilian's  state  carriage  is  hi  the  National 
Museum  now.  It  is  very  fine,  all  gilt  and  crimson  velvet, 
with  little  gilt  cupids  flying  about  it.  It  was  drawn  by  six 
white  horses.  There  were  little  silver  bells  on  the  harness, 
and  when  the  people  heard  the  bells  they  all  ran  out  to  the 
street  or  to  the  doors  and  windows  to  see  the  royal  carriage 


140  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

pass.  When  you  go  to  Mexico  you  will  see  the  carriage  and 
many  other  interesting  things  in  the  Museum. " 

Mercedes  gave  a  little  start  and  said  quickly,  "O,  I  don't 
expect  to  ever  go  to  Mexico;  I'd  as  soon  think  of  a  trip  to  the 
moon. " 

"£t  can't  be  so  impossible  as  that,"  he  replied,  smiling. 
"No  communication  has  as  yet  been  established  between  the 
earth  and  the  moon,  you  know."  Then  after  a  little  pause 
he  continued,  "French  was  the  language  of  the  court,  so  all 
of  us  young  fellows  thought  it  would  be  the  greatest  of 
accomplishments  to  speak  French.  We  were  not  thinking 
so  much  about  our  rights  and  liberties  as  about  the  splendor 
of  the  court." 

"Were  there  any  titled  people  in  the  court  except  the  sov- 
ereigns ?"  asked  Mercedes,  unable  to  imagine  a  court  without 
them,  and  yet  equally  unable  to  imagine  nobility  in  plain,, 
republican  Mexico. 

"O  yes,  the  emperor,  as  they  called  him,  made  dukes  and 
duchesses  of  the  wealthy  Mexicans  who  were  about  him." 

"And  what  did  they  do  with  their  titles  when  he  was 
dethroned  !"  asked  Mercedes,  laughing. 

"They  had  to  put*  them  into  their  pockets  then,"  replied 
the  gentleman  with  evident  enjoyment. 

"Napoleon  III.  was  very  unkind  and  unjust  to  Mexico  in 
trying  to  establish  a  monarchy  here,  wasn't  he  ?"  asked  Mer- 
cedes by  way  of  continuing  so  interesting  a  conversation. 

"Yes,  and  it  was  a  just  punishment  of  Providence  that  he 
should  be  dethroned  and  banished  from  his  kingdom. " 

Just  then  they  noticed  that  there  was  a  lull  in  the  conver- 
sation around  the  table.  They  had  all  ceased  talking  out  of 
respect  for  the  benevolent-looking  old  gentleman  who  had 
been  so  much  amused  at  the  request  of  the  children  for  more 
wine.  He  was  beginning  a  story  in  his  slow,  measured  tones. 
Perhaps  he  thought  there  was  too  much  discussing  of  history 
and  literature  and  social  events;  the  claims  of  religion  should 
not  be  so  long  forgotten.  He  was  saying: 

"The  other  day  I  read  in  a  newspaper  that  a  poor  woman 


ST.  FRANCISCO'S  DAY.  141 

in  whose  family  there  had  been  a  death  went  to  a  priest  and 
asked  him  for  money  to  defray  the  burial  expenses,  request- 
ing him  at  the  same  time  to  come  to  her  house  and  see  the 
need  for  charity  He  went;  and  while  he  was  there  he 
noticed  on  a  table  a  pile  of  books.  He  picked  up  some  of 
them  and  found  among  them  a  poisonous  reptile.  He  took 
it  up  by  the  tail  and  it  was  turned  to  stone  in  his  hand.  He 
gave  it  to  the  poor  woman  and  told  her  to  sell  it  as  a  curios- 
ity for  the  money  which  she  needed.  It  was  evidently  a 
miracle,"  he  added  in  conclusion,  "to  supply  the  need  of  the 
poor  woman." 

"Evidently,"  fervently  repeated  his  pretty  daughter- in- 
law,  who  sat  by  his  side. 

Mercedes  did  not  mean  to  see  anybody  after  this  narrative; 
she  felt  instinctively  that  Don  Francisco  would  be  ashamed 
of  it  and  she  pitied  him;  but  it  was  a  vital  question  to  her — 
the  truth  or  falsehood  of  this,  the  only  religion  which  she 
knew.  She  would  give  not  a  little  to  know  what  these  intel- 
ligent, cultured  men  thought  of  the  Church  and  her  miracles. 
One  swift,  involuntary  glance  around  the  table  before  She 
fixed  her  eyes  on  her  plate  showed  her  that  some  of  the  gen- 
tlemen were  steadily  contemplating  the  contents  of  their 
plates  while  others  were  watching  Mrs.  Peek.  That  lady 
-was  a  Protestant.  She  and  her  husband  attended  the  meet- 
ings in  the  humble  hall  over  whose  door  was  the  inscription, 
"Culto  Evangelico,"  and  tried  to  understand  the  sermon  of 
the  humble  Mexican  preacher.  Her  boys  went  there  to 
Sunday-school,  and  neither  she  nor  her  husband  cared  who 
knew  it.  It  was  probable  that  her  husband  would  lose  his 
position  on  account  of  it,  unless  he  could  make  his  services 
so  invaluable  to  his  employer  that  a  wife's  influence  would 
have  little  weight  in  comparison  with  that  consideration,  but 
that  worthy  pair,  prompted  either  by  their  natural  independ- 
ence, or  by  higher  motives,  persisted  in  their  course. 

Mrs.  Peek  had  listened  respectfully  to  the  story,  and  when 
a  brief  glance  had  shown  her  that  she  was  an  object  of  atten- 
tion, she  thought,  during  the  awkward  silence  which  followed: 


142  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"They  needn't  be  looking  at  'the  Protestant; '  she  is  not  so 
incredulous  as  they  may  suppose,  for  it  seems  very  natural 
to  her  that  the  touch  of  a  Roman  Catholic  priest  should  turn 
even  a  poisonous  reptile  to  stone. "  But  the  next  moment  she 
said  to  herself,  reproachfully,  "Now  that  is  mean  of  me. 
The  gentlemen  looked  at  me  because  they  were  so  ashamed 
of  the  story.  The  women  all  believe  it,  I  suppose.  They  do 
believe  such  things." 

Some  excuse  was  found  just  then  to  adjourn  to  the  parlor. 
The  afternoon  was  passed  pleasantly  with  conversation, 
music,  walks  in  the  orchard,  and  promenading  in  the  broad 
corridor  around  the  court.  With  the  evening  many  other  in- 
vited guests  arrived.  The  young  gentlemen  dropped  in 
alone,  that  is  without  ladies,  unless,  as  it  sometimes  hap- 
pened, one  brought  his  mother;  fathers  and  mothers  arrived 
with  their  daughters.  An  elegant  supper  was  spread  in  the 
dining  room.  A  large  room  had  been  arranged  for  dancing. 

The  parlor  presented  an  animated  appearance;  there  were 
groups  of  young  ladies  and  young  gentlemen,  the  former  not 
far  from  their  "mamas,"  though  apparently  quite  easy  under 
the  maternal  surveillance.  There  were  also  groups  of  older 
ladies  and  gentlemen  sitting  near  the  walls,  and  conversing 
pleasantly. 

Mercedes'  attention  was  attracted  by  a  conversation  be- 
tween Mrs.  Peek  and  three  or  four  ladies  who  had  been  pres- 
ent at  dinner.  They  had  evidently  observed  that  the  eyes  of 
the  gentlemen  had  been  directed  toward  the  Protestant  lady 
after  the  unfortunate  narrative  of  the  benevolent  old  gentle- 
man, and  they  were  taking  their  feminine  revenge. 

"Is  it  customary,  Mrs.  Peek,"  said  a  plump,  handsome 
young  matron  hi  black  velvet,  "for  American  gentlemen  to 
push  back  their  chairs  after  dinner,  and  put  their  feet  on  the 
dining  table  to  smoke?  " 

"No,"  replied  Mrs.  Peek,  with  slightly  heightened  color, 
4 '  I  never  knew  of  an  American  gentleman's  doing  so.  Why 
do  you  ask?  " 

"Well,  I  didn't  know,"  said  the  lady  sweetly.     "You  know 


ST.  FRANCISCO'S   DAY.  143 

the  customs  in  different  countries  are  so  different;  and  I've 
heard  that  gentlemen  from  the  United  States  do  that  in  the 
hotels  here." 

Then  after  a  little  more  indifferent  talking  a  tall,  slender, 
graceful  young  lady  with  lustrous  brown  eyes  and  soft, 
abundant  brown  hair,  whose  brunette  beauty  was  heightened 
by  a  dress  of  some  soft  cream  and  pink  material,  said  pleas- 
antly: 

1 '  Mrs.  Peek,  you  attend  the  services  of  the  Presbyterians 
in  the  street  of  Ramos  Arispe,  don't  you?  " 

"Yes,  I  frequently  go.     I  am  a  Presbyterian." 

"Is  it  true — excuse  me,  I  only  ask  for  information — does 
the  minister  give  money  to  those  who  attend  the  services?  " 

* '  No,  he  could  not  afford  to  do  so.  The  minister  is  a  very 
poor  man." 

k '  But  he  might  be  supplied  with  money  by  the  mission- 
aries. I  don't  know,  of  course,"  she  said  apologetically,  "but 
I  have  heard  that  when  he  goes  around  shaking  hands  with 
them  all  after  the  services  he  leaves  a  piece  of  money  in  the 
hand  of  each  one. " 

"It  is  a  mistake.  I  have  never  heard  of  any  one's  being 
paid  to  attend  the  Protestant  meetings. " 

Mercedes  was  wondering  who  would  give  her  the  next  cut 
when  she  heard  one  lady  say  to  another,  evidently  intending 
that  the  Presbyterian  lady  should  hear  her  remark: 

'  *  What  enormous  feet  American  ladies  have !  And  they  do 
wear  such  horrid  shoes,  with  such  broad  toes  and  low,  broad 
heels!" 

Mrs.  Peek  slipped  her  shapely  foot,  in  a  fine  American 
shoe,  a  little  farther  from  under  her  dress,  and  continued  to 
ply  her  fan  with  much  composure. 

Then  another,  affecting  to  believe  that  Mrs.  Peek  was  not 
well  enough  acquainted  with  Spanish  to  understand  her,  said 
in  a  low  tone: 

"What  amazes  me  most  is  the  behavior  of  the  American 
girls.  I  was  shocked  last  Sunday  night  at  the  ball  in  the 
casino  at  the  way  that  girl  who  is  visiting  the  Robledos  con- 
ducted herself.  Did  you  notice  it?  " 


144  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

' '  No,  I  was  not  there. " 

' '  She  didn't  stay  near  Margarita  Robledo  at  all.  She  was 
all  the  time  talking  with  young  gentlemen,  and  she  actually 
stood  out  on  the  balcony  and  talked  with  one  for  awhile. 
And  they  tell  me  that  the  young  men  call  on  her,  and  she 
receives  them  alone  in  the  parlor;  and  they  say  she  even 
takes  rides  with  them.  I  can  very  well  believe  it,  for  I  know 
that  last  Sunday  evening  was  a  week  ago  she  went  alone  to 
the  theater  with  a  young  gentleman,  and  after  it  was  over  he 
took  her  home  alone;  she  went  right  out  into  the  dark  with 
him  alone.  After  the  play  was  over  I  saw  him  myself  take 
up  her  wrap  and  put  it  around  her.  I'd  rather  my  daughter 
were  a  nun  in  a  convent  than  that  she  should  come  to  con- 
duct herself  in  that  way." 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  listener,  kindly,  "the  young  lady 
doesn't  know  the  customs  of  this  country.  Those  things,  I 
think,  are  customary  in  the  United  States." 

"Well,"  replied  the  other  with  a  little  laugh,  "when  I  go 
to  the  United  States  I  may  follow  the  customs  of  the  United 
States,  but  here  I  prefer  those  of  my  own  country." 

Just  then  Don  Francisco  came  up  and  said,  pleasantly: 

"Mrs.  Peek,  I  have  been  telling  those  gentlemen  and  ladies 
over  yonder  about  your  singing,  and  they  would  like  to  hear 
you  sing  some  English  songs.  Will  you  let  me  take  you  to 
the  piano?  With  your  permission,  Senoras,"  he  said,  bowing 
to  the  other  ladies  as  Mrs.  Peek  arose  to  go.  When  she  had 
finished  playing  Mrs.  Peek  retired  to  her  room. 

Soon  after  the  dancing  began,  and  as  the  first  couples  of 
girls  and  young  gentlemen  glided  gracefully  over  the  floor 
Mercedes  excused  herself  to  Dofia  Flavia  and  slipped  out. 
The  scene  would  have  been  fascinating  to  her  but  for  her 
bereavement.  Far  into  the  night  in  her  own  room  she  heard 
the  music,  the  dancing  in  the  ballroom,  and  the  merry  voices 
of  the  children  in  the  corridor. 


'AN  AWFUL  DAY."  145 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"AN  AWFUL  DAY." 

IT  was  the  day  on  which  the  Senora  Dofia  Flavia  Salizar  de 
Urbina  learned  that  her  husband  was  a  Mason.  As  she 
remarked  afterward,  and  as  she  will  remember  till  the  day  of 
her  death  with  great  distinctness,  it  was  a  beautiful  day;  the 
sun  shone  as  brightly  as  she  had  ever  seen  it,  the  birds  sang 
as  sweetly,  and  the  flowers  in  the  court  were  just  as  gay. 
There  was  no  sign  given  her  of  coming  trouble. 

She  went  to  mass,  accompanied  by  Mercedes,  and  as  they 
returned  a  friend  joined  her.  As  she  manifested  a  desire  to 
talk  privately  with  Dona  Flavia,  Mercedes  dropped  behind, 
but  she  could  not  help  hearing,  for  the  neighbor  was  excited 
and  talked  louder  than  she  intended. 

"Flavia,  did  you  know  there  was  a  Masonic  lodge  in 
town?  " 

"Yes,  Concepcion,  I  know  it.  Doesn't  it  seem  that  every- 
thing conspires  against  the  interests  of  the  Holy  Mother 
Church  in  these  wicked  times?  " 

"Yes,"  said  her  companion,  too  full  of  the  communication 
that  was  struggling  for  utterance  to  notice  Dofia  Flavia's 
pious  reflection,  "there  is  a  lodge.  They  have  fitted  up  a 
room  for  their  meetings  at  the  back  of  the  old  college.  Think 
of  their  holding  their  meetings  in  a  house  that  was  built  by 
the  Holy  Fathers  !  And  more  people  belong  to  it  than  some 
of  us  have  any  idea.  Yes,  there  are  men  in  this  town  who 
have  been  Masons  for  a  long  time,  and  their  wives  have  no 
idea  of  it!  There  are  a  good  many  women  in 'this  town  who 
would  leave  their  husbands  if  they  knew  they  were  Masons, 
but  the  trouble  is  they  don't  know  it."  , 

Dona  Flavia  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"But  I've  found  it  out  now,"  went  on  the  neighbor  with 

10 


146  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

great  satisfaction.     "They  can't  keep  their  wicked  secret 
forever.     I  can  tell  you  who  the  Masons  are." 

Dona  Flavia  looked  at  her  a  little  apprehensively. 

'  'You  wouldn't  suspect,  now,  that  Juan  Guerrero  was  a 
Mason,  would  you?  Well,  he  is,  and  his  poor  wife  knows 
nothing  about  it.  It  would  kill  her,  poor  child!  if  she  knew 
it.  But  she  ought  to  know  about  it,  and  she  shall  know  it 
to-day.  Ah,  Flavia,"  she  said,  stopping  short  and  laying  her 
hand  on  that  lady's  arm,  "you  love  your  husband  and  you 
have  been  very  happy  all  these  years,  but  it  would  all  be 
over  if  you  knew  that  he  had  been  deceiving  you,  and  had 
been  seeking  to  destroy  his  own  soul  by  acting  in  defiance  of 
the  Holy  Church." 

The  missal  slipped  from  Dofia  Flavia's  hand,  and  the  rosary 
almost  fell.  She  was  very  pale.  She  began  to  say,  '  'I  don't 
believe  it, "  then  checked  herself.  She  did  say,  '  'I  think  you 
must  be  mistaken,"  but  the  other  was  ready  with  proofs. 
When  they  reached  Dona  Flavia's  door  she  paused.  She  was 
convinced.  A  greater  trouble  than  she  had  ever  had  before 
in  the  whole  course  of  her  easy  life  had  fallen  on  her. 

"Adios,  Concepcion,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  go  in  now;  I 
have  something  to  attend  to.  Mercedes,  I  do  not  need  com-: 
pany;  you  can  go  on  to  school." 

The  gossiping  neighbor  would  gladly  have  accompanied 
her  to  see  her  "die,"  but  something  in  Dona  Flavia's  face 
forbade  it. 

The  Sefiora  de  Urbina  went  back  to  the  church  which  was 
now  almost  deserted,  and  kneeling  before  the  image  of  the 
Virgin  she  repeated  the  "Ave  Maria,"  the  "Pater  Noster," 
and  the  "Apostles'  Creed"  an  almost  incredible  number  of 
times.  One  who  has  not  heard  a  Roman  Catholic  going 
through  that  exercise  can  have  no  idea  with  what  rapidity 
they  can  be  repeated. 

There  are  those  who  exhort  us  to  be  specific  in  prayer. 
The  two  last  of  these  formulas  are  familiar  to  you.  The 
"Ave  Maria"  runs  thus: 

"God  save  thee,  Mary;  thou  art  full  of  grace;  the  Lord  is 


''AN  AWFUL  DAY."  147 

with  thee;  blessed  art  thou  among  women  and  blessed  is  thy 
Son,  Jesus.  Holy  Mary,  Mother  of  God,  pray  for  us  sinners, 
now,  and  in  the  hour  of  our  death.  Amen." 

As  she  felt  no  relief  of  spirit  from  these  exercises  she  went 
on  to  repeat  other  prayers  "to  the  most  Holy  Mary,"  prayers 
which  she  had  learned  from  her  missal.  If  her  memory 
failed  her  she  opened  the  book  and  read. 

"I  adore  thee,  oh  thou  who  art  full  of  grace!  the  Lord  is 
with  thee.  I  adore  thee,  oh,  instrument  of  our  joy,  through 
which  in  thy  Son  the  sentence  of  our  condemnation  was  rent 
and  changed  into  judgment  of  blessing.  I  adore  thee,  oh, 
temple  of  the  glory  of  God!  holy  house  of  the  king  of  heaven. 
Thou  art  in  Jesus  Christ  the  reconciliation  of  God  with  men. 
I  adore  thee,  oh  mother  of  our  joy!  in  truth  thou  art  blessed, 
because  thou  alone  among  all  women  wast  worthy  to  be 
mother  of  our  Creator:  all  nations  call  thee  blessed;  oh  Mary! 
if  I  put  my  confidence  in  thee  I  shall  obtain  the  means  of 
salvation.  If  I  am  under  thy  protection  I  will  fear  nothing, 
because  to  be  thy  true  worshipper  is  a  shield  inpenetrable  to 
the  assaults  of  my  enemies." 

Then  with  the  hope  of  further  propitiating  her  and  gaining 
her  intercession  hi  this  trial  her  rapid  voice  slipped  on  into  a 
confession  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Virgin  whom 
she  confessed  as  "my  queen,  my  refuge,  my  life,  my  succor, 
my  defence,  my  joy,  my  fortress  and  my  hope. "  On  and  on 
went  the  swift,  low  voice  in  the  silent  church  and  now  and 
then  the  words  were  borne  on  sobs: 

"Oh.  Queen  of  Heaven,  of  thee  it  was  said:  Who  is  this  that 
looketh  forth  as  the  morning,  fair  as  the  moon,  chosen  as  the 
sun.  Thou  didst  come  to  the  world  as  the  resplendent  morn- 
ing,'anticipating  with  the  light  of  thy  holiness  the  coming  of 
the  Sun  of  righteousness.  Oh  day  in  which  thou  didst 
appear  in  the  world !  Well  may  it  be  called  day  of  salvation 
and  grace.  Thou  art  beautiful  as  the  moon,"  etc. 

Then  again: 

"Oh,  Mother  of  Mercy,  propitiate  thy  Son.  All  the  world 
recognizes  thee,  who  art  in  the  highest  heaven,  as  the  com- 


148  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

mon  propitiation  for  all  peoples.  I  beseech  thee,  oh  most 
holy  Virgin !  to  concede  to  me  the  succor  of  thy  supplications 
before  God;  supplications  which  are  more  estimable  and  more 
precious  than  all  the  treasures  of  the  earth;  supplications 
which  oblige  God  to  pardon  our  sins,  and  secure  for  us  a 
great  abundance  of  grace;  supplications  which  put  to  flight 
our  enemies,  confound  their  designs,  and  triumph  over  their 
ardent  efforts. " 

Two  little  girls  who  had  been  sent  in  with  an  offering  of 
flowers  for  the  image  of  St.  Felipe  de  Jesus  told  their  moth- 
ers that  *  'Flavia  Salizar  was  on  her  knees  much  time  before 
the  image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  that  she  wept  much. " 
And  it  ivas  true. 

At  last  she  went  home  with  her  head  bowed  and  her  thin 
black  silk  shawl  drawn  closely  about  her  face.  She  shut 
herself  in  her  room  and  went  into  a  fit  of  hysterical  weeping. 

Just  after  the  tragic  close  of  the  reign  of  the  Emperor 
Iturbide,  in  the  first  days  of  republican  Mexico,  that  is  dur- 
ing the  year  1825,  "certain  political  clubs  were  organized 
under  the  name  and  with  the  formulas  of  Masonic  lodges  of 
the  Yorkine  rite,  their  founder  being  the  priest  of  the  parish 
of  Tobasco,  and  the  senator  for  that  State.  In  opposition  to 
these  were  the  lodges  of  the  Scotch  rite,  which  were  organ- 
ized between  1813  and  1836  and  which  counted  among  their 
members  Negrete,  Echavarri,  Guerrero,  and  many  prominent 
leaders  whose  party  favored  the  restoration  of  the  mon- 
archy." 

The  Yorkinos  were  the  republican  party,  the  Escoseses,  or 
those  who  belonged  to  the  lodges  of  the  Scotch  rite,  were  the 
royalist  party,  and  to  that  party  the  clergy  belonged  as  a 
matter  of  course.  The  republic  continued,  but  the  Yorkine 
party,  through  the  faults  of  ambitious  and  unscrupulous 
members,  was  destroyed.  The  lodges  of  the  Scotch  rite  lost 
their  political  power.  They  revived,  but  never  since  then 
have  they  had  a  distinctive  political  character,  though  it  is 
probable  that  the  many  prominent  men  who  belong  to  them 
seek  to  use  their  connection  with  them  for  political  ends. 


"AN  AWFUL  DAY."  149 

When  the  royalist  party  was  crushed  out  and  Mexico  be- 
came thoroughly  republican,  the  clergy,  finding  that  the 
Masonic  lodges  would  no  longer  further  their  political  designs, 
withdrew  from  them.  They  found,  moreover,  that,  as  they 
might  express  it,  in  introducing  and  fostering  Free  Masonry 
they  had  warmed  and  nourished  in  their  bosom  a  serpent 
which  was  to  turn  and  sting  them,  for  the  numerous  lodges 
were  diffusing  a  spirit  of  inquiry  and  of  religious  liberty 
among  all  ranks  of  the  people. 

When  Don  Francisco  went  home  to  dinner  that  day,  he 
looked  into  his  study  and  not  finding  Dofia  Flavia  there  he 
started  into  their  bedroom  which  opened  into  the  study.  The 
door  was  locked.  He  was  a  little  surprised;  he  went  back 
through  the  study  and  stepped  into  the  corridor.  A  servant 
saw  him  and  came  up  to  say  that  the  '  'Sefiora"  had  a  severe 
headache  and  had  told  her  to  tell  him  that  she  preferred  not 
to  see  any  one;  She  had  never  before  refused  to  see  him  no 
matter  how  sick  she  was. 

He  was  too  much  accustomed  to  dread  that  she  should  dis- 
cover that  he  was  connected  with  a  Masonic  lodge  not  to  have 
his  apprehensions  aroused. 

When  a  school  was  to  be  selected  for  the  sons  of  his  first 
marriage  she  had  set  her  heart  on  their  being  placed  in  one 
of  the  Catholic  schools  of  the  country,  pleading  that  she  had 
a  right  to  have  something  to  say  in  the  decision  of  that  ques- 
tion because  she  had  been  a  good  stepmother.  He  willingly 
acknowledged  that,  but  refused  to  place  his  sons  in  these 
schools  because,  as  he  explained  to  her,  they  were  all  under 
the  influence  of  Jesuit  priests.  That  argument  had  no  weight 
for  her;  and  naturally  when  the  question  had  to  be  decided 
for  her  own  sons  the  discussion  led  to  worse  feeling  on  her 
part,  for,  knowing  that  he  was  in  the  right  the  father  had 
had  his  own  way  and  had  sent  them  first  to  secular  schools  hi 
the  City  of  Mexico  and  afterward  to  a  college  of  the  same 
character  in  California. 

As  was  to  be  expected,  when  Magdalena  was  to  be  sent 
away  from  home  to  complete  her  education  all  of  Don  Fran- 


150  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO 

Cisco's  pleading  and  explaining  was  of  no  avail.  He  saw  that 
if  he  persisted  he  would  be  rushing  into  breakers  worse  than 
he  had  ever  anticipated.  Sick  at  heart,  he,  the  statesman, 
who  knew  the  teachings  and  influence  of  the  Jesuits,  the 
philanthropist,  who  knew  the  character  of  convents,  gave 
his  lovely  and  tenderly  loved  daughter  into  the  care  of  the 
nuns  who  had  charge  of  one  of  the  * '  Colleges  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus."  Did  he  do  right?  He  often  asked  himself 
that,  and  generally  answered  his  question  by  exclaiming, 
desperately:  "What  else  could  I  do?  " 

There  were  other  things,  too,  for  which  he  might  well 
anticipate  trouble  if  a  report  of  them  should  reach  his  wife's 
ears.  Perhaps  she  had  seen  a  copy  of  a  speech  which  he  had 
made  during  the  last  session  of  Congress,  in  which  he  had 
spoken  of  Juarez  as  the  "Savior  of  his  Country,'*  extolled 
the  law  granting  religious  toleration,  and  made  some  obser- 
vations which  no  one  could  consider  complimentary  to  the 
influence  of  the  priests  on  the  political  affairs  of  Mexico,  con- 
cluding by  reminding  his  hearers  of  the  shameful  words  of  a 
Mexican  prelate,  uttered  in  a  speech  to  the  pope,  that  ' '  He 
hoped  the  day  would  come  when  the  Mexican  eagle  would 
drag  itself  in  the  dust  before  the  papal  throne." 

He  remembered  with  satisfaction  that  this  speech  had  been 
much  applauded  in  the  Chamber,  and — there  being  no  line  in 
the  course  of  the  years  over  which  vanity  may  not  accom- 
pany us — he  had  thought  that  * '  if  Flavia  could  have  heard 
that  speech,  and  the  applause  with  which  it  was  received, 
she  would  have  been  proud  that  she  was  his  wife — if  she 
were  not  such  a  Catholic."  Had  that  speech  brought  him 
trouble? 

His  was  an  open  and  sincere  nature;  he  would  have  been 
glad  to  confide  to  his  wife  all  his  thoughts  about  politics, 
religion  and  everything  else,  but  her  fanaticism  had  made  it 
necessary  for  him  to  conceal,  as  far  as  possible,  his  liberal, 
patriotic,  and  philanthropic  course  in  relation  to  the  former. 
With  respect  to  the  latter  he  said  very  little  in  her  presence, 
but  persistently  and  earnestly  he  attempted  to  uproot  from 


"AN  AWFUL  DAY."  151 

the  minds  of  his  boys  all  belief  in  the  superstitions  of  the 
Catholic  Church. 

In  this  course  he  was  attempting  to  counteract  the  equally 
persistent  and  earnest  instructions  of  their  mother;  and  the 
result  was  that  the  young  people's  minds  were  hi  a  sad  state 
of  confusion.  "Was  father  right?  or  was  mother  right?  or 
were  they  both  right  in  some  way  that  they  could  not  under- 
stand? "  What  are  children  to  do  when  two  infallible  teachers 
differ?  What  was  Don  Francisco  to  say  when  the  bright  eyes 
of  his  boys  dilated  with  surprise,  and  they  replied:  "But, 
papa,  mama  says  that  the  priests  are  good  men,  and  that  we 
ought  to  confess  to  them,  and  do  everything  they  tell  us 
to  do"? 

One  by  one,  as  they  crept  up  into  their  teens,  they  learned 
to  listen  in  silence  to  both  father  and  mother,  and  to  pondei 
in  their  own  hearts,  or  discuss  timidly  among  themselves 
these  contradictory  instructions;  and  both  father  and  mother 
had  been  saddened  over  the  growing  silence  on  the  part  of 
their  sons.  Each  of  them  thought  he  was  right  and  felt 
aggrieved  by  the  other. 

Don  Francisco  had  to  give  up  his  daughters  almost  entirely 
to  the  influence  of  their  mother;  he  could  never  get  them  into 
his  office  down  town  and  talk  with  them  as  he  could  with  his 
sons. 

It  was  true,  he  had  nothing  to  offer  his  boys  in  the  place 
of  Roman  Catholicism;  but  they  had  better  have  nothing  than 
that  collection  of  degrading  superstitions,  he  thought.  "I 
can  give  them  nothing  hi  the  place  of  it — nothing  but  Free 
Masonry  " — he  said  to  himself  drearily  that  afternoon,  sitting, 
with  his  elbows  on  his  desk  and  his  head  on  his  hands,  pon- 
dering over  these  things  as  he  was  in  the  habit. of  doing. 

Free  Masonry  was  not  a  religion.  He  was  by  no  means 
sure  that  compliance  with  the  rules  of  that  order  was  all  that 
a  man  needed  to  make  him  feel  comfortable  about  that  going 
out  into  the  dark  alone  after  death.  He  knew  from  travel 
and  observation  that  the  Protestant  nations  were  character- 
ized by  prosperity  and  a  spirit  of  progress,  such  as  were  to 


152  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

be  found  in  no  Catholic  nation.  He  liked  the  principles 
taught  by  these  Protestant  creeds,  the  "  liberty,  equality,  and 
fraternity; "  they  were  what  he  liked  best  in  Free  Masonry, 
too.  He  was  glad  for  the  Protestants  to  come  to  Mexico, 
inasmuch  as  they  diffused  these  principles.  But  as  to  the 
Protestants  themselves,  he  was  not  sure  that  they  were  so 
much  better  than  the  Catholics.  If  the  pagans  had  persecu- 
ted the  Catholics,  and  the  Catholics  had  persecuted  the 
pagans  and  the  Protestants,  the  Protestants  had  also  perse- 
cuted the  Catholics  and  each  other. 

If  Don  Francisco  had  ever  had  a  hint  in  his  reading  that 
they  were  not  all  Protestants  that  were  called  Protestants,  it 
was  a  very  vague  one  and  it  had  made  no  impression  on  him. 
How  could  he  go  feeling  his  way  blindly  up  and  down  the 
centuries,  searching  for  "a  little  flock  in  the  wilderness/' 
who  had  never  persecuted,  but  who  had  always  been  perse- 
cuted; a  people  who  had  always  taught  and  really  practiced 
those  grand  principles  of  Free  Masonry,  "Self-denial,  liberty, 
equality,  and  fraternity?  " 

"Pietists — that  is  what  all  these  Protestants  are,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "with  their  strict  observance  of  Sunday,  their 
refusing  to  go  to  balls  and  theaters  on  that  day — on  the  day 
which  should  be  given  to  harmless  recreation ! " 

No,  he  did  not  want  his  children  to  be  Protestants.  The 
traditions  of  some  generations  of  aristocratic  ancestors  for- 
bade that.  He  preferred  that  they  should  retain  the  name  of 
"Catholics,"  but  have  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the  Church 
except  to  be  baptized,  married  and  buried  by  it;  and  he  would 
not  grieve  if  they  omitted  those  expressions  of  deference 
for  her. 

"As  for  this  matter  of  a  preparation  for  a  future  life,"  he 
said,  getting  up  uneasily  and  beginning  to  walk  the  floor, 
"if  there  is  a  future  state  of  existence,  nothing  can  be  known 
about  it  with  certainty  anyhow.  One  can  only  hope  that  by 
being  a  good  citizen,  a  good  son,  husband  and  father  it  will 
turn  out  all  right." 

If  this  statement  of  Don  Francisco's  religious  opinions  is 


153 

confused,  it  is  at  least  no  more  confused  than  his  opinions 
were. 

Two  hours  later  he  stood  before  the  door  of  his  wife's  room. 
His  fears  were  probably  ill  founded,  he  was  wrong  to  borrow 
trouble,  he  had  said  to  himself,  trying  to  recall  an  easy  and 
cheerful  feeling  about  his  domestic  aif airs,  to  entertain  which, 
it  had  long  seemed  to  him,  would  be  the  climax  of  human 
happiness.  He  knocked,  but  as  there  was  no  answer  he 
opened  the  door  softly  and  entered.  The  room  was  in  per- 
fect order;  the  crucifix  stood  in  its  place  on  the  bureau 
and  the  mass  book  and  rosary  lay  by  its  side,  as  usual. 
There  was  no  smelling  bottle  nor  any  other  attendant  of  a 
headache  among  the  books  and  ornaments  of  the  center  table- 
nor  on  the  tray  marble  table  by  the  bed.  The  great,  beau- 
tiful, shining  brass  bed,  with  the  picture  of  the  Virgin  in  the- 
head  piece  held  by  the  slender  coils  of  yellow  metal,  looked 
as  if  its  snowy  surface  under  the  lace  curtains  which  hung 
down  from  the  "likeness  of  a  kingly  crown"  above  and  were 
looped  back  with  ribbons,  had  never  been  disturbed. 

Carefully  dressed,  with  her  shining,  wavy  brown  hair  ar- 
ranged in  its  usual  simple  and  elegant  style,  Dona  Flavia  sat 
in  a  wicker  rocking  chair  near  the  window.  She  was  evident- 
ly better  of  the  headache. 

She  did  not  look  up  as  he  approached;  perhaps  she  had  not 
heard  him,  he  thought. 

"Your  head  is  better,  I  hope,"  he  said,  speaking  pleasant- 
ly and  smiling. 

"I  have  not  had  the  headache,"  she  replied  in  a  cutting  yet 
musical  voice. 

"Maria  told  me  at  dinner  time  that  you  said  you  had  the 
headache  and  did  not  want  to  be  disturbed." 

'  'I  told  her  to  tell  you  so  because  I  did  not  want  to  see  anjr 
one  then.  I  have  been  quite  well  all  day." 

"Then  what  was  the  matter! "he  asked  with  a  sinking 
heart,  but  going  straight  to  the  point.  If  trouble  was  com- 
ing it  would  be  better  to  meet  it  bravely. 

She  arose  from  her  seat  that  her  face  might  be  more  nearly 


154  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

on  a  level  with  his  as  she  replied.  He  thought  of  the  gla- 
ciers as  he  had  seen  them  among  the  Alps  with  the  sunlight 
on  their  cold,  beautiful  surfaces.  She  had  tried  to  remove 
all  traces  of  weeping  from  her  face  and  had  dressed  carefully 
for  this  interview.  "She  wished  to  show  him,"  as  she  told 
her  sister  some  months  afterward,  "that  it  was  Flavia  Sali- 
zar  he  had  trifled  with."  She  looked  him  full  in  the  face  as 
she  answered: 

"I  have  learned  to-day  that  you  are  a  Mason." 

He  returned  her  look  without  flinching.  He  would  have 
told  her  a  falsehood  if  it  would  have  deceived  her.  "Why 
should  he  not? "  he  would  have  reasoned  if  any  reasoning 
had  been  necessary  to  his  mind.  *  'Would  it  not  be  better  to 
tell  one  lie  than  that  a  whole  family  should  be  plunged  into 
unhappiness  by  the  truth.  Was  it  not  taught  in  the  laws  oi 
Spain  that  deception  was  right  under  certain  circumstances! 
Did  not  Victor  Hugo's  saintly  'Sister  Simplicia'  tell  a  lie  to 
save  a  good  man  from  trouble,  and  did  not  the  author  say 
that  it  was  set  down  in  Paradise  as  one  of  the  whitest  deeds 
she  ever  did?  Juan  Valjean  would  not  tell  a  falsehood  for 
his  own  sake,  perhaps,  but  he  told  them  without  scruples  for 
the  sake  of  others." 

There  are  special  reasons  why  the  author  of  "Les  Miser- 
ables"  should  be  a  favorite  among  the  Mexicans.  Was  it  not 
he  who  called  Napoleon  III.  "Napoleon  the  Little"?  And 
was  he  not  banished  by  that  monarch  for  twenty  years  from 
France?  And  did  he  not  return  to  France  and  enter  Paris 
the  day  after  the  republic  was  proclaimed? 

Don  Francisco  was  well  acquainted  with  the  teachings  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church  on  the  subject  of  lying,  but  he 
was  not  so  well  aware  that  he  himself  was  indebted  to  her 
for  is  belief  in  the  usefulness  and  harmlessness  of  lying  on 
some  occasions.  He  preferred,  as  we  have  seen,  to  cite  Victor 
Hugo's  teachings  as  a  reason  for  the  faith  that  was  in  him. 
But  even  if  he  had  received  his  "liberal"  ideas  about  false- 
hood from  that  author,  it  is  still  probable  that  he  would  have 
been  indebted  to  the  Church  for  them,  for  Victor  Hugo  grew 


"AN  AWFUL  DAY."  155 

up  in  an  atmosphere  of  Roman  Catholicism,  so  that  whether 
he  would  or  not  the  principles  of  that  religion  had  become  a 
part  of  every  nerve  and  fiber  of  his  spiritual  being,  if  I  may 
be  permitted  to  express  it  so. 

•'Yes,"  said  Don  Francisco  quietly,  "I  have  been  a  Mason 
for  six  years." 

* ;  How  can  you  speak  so  quietly  of  having  deceived  your 
wife  for  such  a  length  of  time?  " 

' '  I  would  gladly  have  told  you,  but  I  knew  you  would  op- 
pose it.  My  duty  to  my  country  required  me  to  become  a 
Mason.  If  you  will  examine  the  teachings  of  the  Masons, 
Flavia,  you  will  see  that  there  is  nothing  wrong  in  them. " 

"I  don't  care  to  discuss  the  subject  or  to  hear  it  explained. 
I  have  borne  enough.  For  years  you  have  acted  in  direct 
opposition  to  my  wishes;  you  have  done  all  you  could  against 
the  church  of  your  forefathers  and  of  your  wife;  you  have 
spared  no  pains  to  drag  your  children  and  mine  into  infidelity 
and  heresy.  I  demand  a  separation." 

Don  Francisco  was  astonished.  He  had  never  thought  of 
her  going  so  far.  He  was  indignant,  but  he  controlled  him- 
self, and  said  quietly: 

1 '  You  are  excited,  Flavia.  Wait  till  you  are  calmer,  and 
we  will  talk  of  this." 

"No,  it  would  better  to  settle  it  now;  I  don't  want  to  have 
to  refer  to  it  again.  I  desire  a  separation.  I  want  to  have 
the  privilege  of  bringing  up  my  children  in  the  fold  of  the 
Church." 

Just  then  there  was  heard  outside  a  rush  of  little  feet  to- 
ward "mama's  room,"  and  a  confusion  of  merry  voices  and 
childish  laughter.  They  sounded  like  the  clear,  happy  songs 
of  birds  under  a  black  sky  in  the  lull  of  a  tempest.  Don 
Francisco  stepped  quickly  to  the  door  and  turned  the  key, 
with  the  bitter  thought  that  it  was  the  first  tune  that  his 
children  were  ever  locked  out  from  the  presence  of  their 
parents.  Then  he  said  quietly: 

"They  are  my  children,  too.  I  have  as  much  right  as  you 
to  say  what  they  shall  be  taught.  But  if  you  will  persist  in 


156  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

talking  of  such  absurdities  I  will  have  to  remind  you  that 
even  if  the  law  would  grant  you  a  divorce  it  would  give  you 
only  your  daughters,  whom  you  have  completely  under  your 
influence  anyhow,  and  it  would  leave  our  sons  to  me.  But  as 
you  have  no  just  cause  for  a  divorce  the  law  would  not  give 
it  to  you.  And  if  you  leave  me  without  one  I  will  keep  all 
the  children." 

"The  Church  would  give  me  a  divorce  under  such  circum- 
stances. " 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  he  replied  scornfully,  "there  is  no  in- 
iquiety  that  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  can't  be  counted  on 
to  sanction.  But  you  forget  that  the  Church,  in  Mexico,  no 
longer  has  the  power  to  make  or  sever  marriages." 

She  gazed  at  him  a  few  moments,  slowly  realizing  her  help- 
lessness. Then  she  sank  into  her  chair  and  covered  her  face 
with,  her  hands.  Pity  seized  him,  and  regret  for  his  em- 
phatic words.  Could  he  not  have  told  her  the  truth  more 
gently?  He  drew  a  chair  to  her  side,  and  sat  down.  It  was 
the  priests  who  were  to  blame  for  all  this,  and  not  his  sweet, 
fair  wife,  he  thought. 

"Flavia,"  he  said  gently,  laying  his  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
"don't  cry.  I  spoke  too  emphatically.  I  did  wrong.  We 
will  forget  it  all." 

"Please  go  away  and  leave  me  alone,"  she  moaned. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I  can't  leave  you  so,  dear.  Forgive  me; 
you  know  I  love  you.  There,  don't  cry,  and  let  me  open  the 
door  for  the  children." 

"I  wish  you  would  leave  me  alone,"  she  repeated  impa- 
tiently. And  after  a  few  moments  he  went  out  softly,  and 
shut  the  door. 


THE  LORD'S  DAY.  157 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  LORD'S  DAY. 

NEARLY  two  weeks  after  the  events  of  the  last  chapter, 
one  Sunday  afternoon,  Dona  Flavia  and  Mercedes  sat 
together  in  the  parlor  sewing.  The  members  of  that  welL 
ordered  household  did  not  usually  work  much  on  Sunday, 
because  that  was  a  day  of  fiesta — a  day  of  rest  and  recreation. 
I  should  make  an  exception  of  the  servants;  they  usually 
worked  more  on  that  day  than  on  others,  for  there  was  gen- 
erally company  for  dinner  on  Sundays. 

There  was  no  company  to-day;  nevertheless  it  had  been  a 
very  busy  day.  Dona  Flavia  and  Mercedes  had  gone  to  early 
mass,  then  the  latter  and  the  housekeeper  had  superintended 
the  cleaning  of  the  parlor,  study,  and  dining  room.  After 
the  carpets  and  curtains  were  shaken  and  put  down  and  hung 
up,  and  the  furniture  was  all  in  its  place  again,  Dona  Flavia 
and  Mercedes  had  daintily  re -arranged  the  delicate  orna- 
ments, fastidiously  draped  the  curtains  and  discussed  and 
had  changed  some  of  the  pictures.  So  the  morning  and  part 
of  the  afternoon  had  passed,  and  now,  as  I  have  said,  though 
tired,  they  sat  together,  sewing. 

The  cause  of  all  this  unusual  exertion  was  the  expected 
visit  of  a  bishop,  or  perhaps  I  should  say,  the  Bishop,  for  he 
was  the  favorite  bishop  of  Dona  Flavia  and  of  most  of  the 
* '  honorable  women  "  of  the  city.  His  visit  had  been  expected 
for  some  time,  as  for  some  weeks  he  had  been  writing  and 
sending  messages  to  the  wealthy  ladies  of  the  city  to  the 
effect  that  as  soon  as  other  imperative  duties  would  permit 
he  would  visit  Salta. 

He  was  to  come  this  week,  and  though  there  had  been 
plenty  of  other  days  on  which  the  house  cleaning  could  have 


158  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

been  done,  all  had  agreed  that  it  would  be  better  to  do  it  on 
Sunday,  as  they  could  have  more  assistance  on  that  day. 

The  cleaning  would  not  have  been  necessary  for  any  other 
visit,  but,  as  Dofia  Flavia  remarked,  "She  always  liked  to 
have  everything  as  elegant  as  possible  when  the  Senor 
Bishop  came,  because  he  was  so  elegant  himself." 

When  he  had  last  visited  them  he  had  affectionately  urged 
the  ladies  of  the  Church  Society  to  build  a  chapel  for  the 
image  of  St.  Felipe  de  Jesus,  a  young  Mexican  priest  who 
was  crucified  in  Japan  and  afterwards  canonized  by  the 
Church,  the  only  Mexican  on  whom  -that  honor  has  as  yet 
been  conferred.  The  chapel  was  to  be  a  small  room,  or  large 
alcove,  opening  by  one  whole  side  into  the  church. 

Great  efforts  had  been  made  to  complete  this  chapel  before 
the  bishop's  return.  Subscriptions  had  been  solicited,  the 
contributors  being  assured  that  their  names  would  be  de- 
posited in  a  glass  urn  that  would  be  kept  on  the  altar,  and 
that  three  masses  a  month  would  be  said  for  them,  whether 
living  or  dead. 1 

An  opera  troupe  which  had  visited  the  town  had,  at  the 
solicitation  of  the  ladies,  given  a  performance  one  Sunday 
night  for  the  building  of  the  chapel.  During  the  vacation  of 
the  schools  they  had  given  balls  on  Sunday  nights  in  the 
girls'  public  school  building,  and  from  the  sale  of  the  refresh- 
ments they  had  realized  some  money;  a  lottery,  which  was 
owned  by  the  Society,  and  was  run  in  the  interest  of  the 
Church  and  for  general  benevolence,  had  also  proved  a 
source  of  profit.  More  than  one  Sunday  afternoon  had  been 
enlivened  by  bull-fights,  the  proceeds  of  which  had  been  de- 
voted to  this  pious  purpose.  After  each  of  these  entertain- 
ments a  very  gratifying  sum  had  been  paid  into  the  hands  of 
the  treasurer  of  the  Society,  for,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  the  torreros  (bullfighters)  who  took  part  on  all  but  one  of 
these  occasions  were  men  of  but  little  renown  in  their  pro- 
fession, all  the  elite  of  the  town,  gentlemen,  ladies  and  chil- 
dren, attended,  "because  it  was  for  the  Church."  The  com- 

.     lNote. — El  Tiempo,  a  Catholic  daily  paper,  published  in  the  City  of 
Mexico. 


THE  LORD'S  DAY.  +   159 

mon  people  went  because  they  always  did  so  if  they  could 
save  money  enough. 

I  insert  here  a  description  of  this  diversion  that  you  may 
have  an  idea  of  the  way  in  which  the  Lord's  Day  is  kept  holy 
in  Mexico,  as  well  as  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Holy  Apos- 
tolic Roman  Catholic  Church  is  at  least  partially  supported. 
This  description  was  written  for  me  by  one  who  had  wit- 
nessed the  fights.  He  is  now,  however,  a  minister  of  the 
gospel.  That  fact,  by  the  way,  may  account  for  his  having 
divided  his  description  into  "firstly,"  "secondly,"  "thirdly," 
as  if  he  were  writing  a  sermon: 

"1st.  The  amphitheater.  A  wall  is  constructed  which  in- 
closes a  circular  space  of  about  forty  yards  in  diameter. 
Running  around  the  inside  of  this  wall  are  the  seats,  ar- 
ranged like  steps,  which  are  for  the  spectators.  Some  seats 
cost  more  than  others.  There  are  several  exits  and  "en- 
trances. On  the  outside  of  the  amphitheater,  but  joined  to 
it,  is  a  lot  in  which  the  animals  are  shut  up.  It  has  two  doors 
leading  into  the  amphitheater,  one  through  which  the  animal 
enters,  and  one  through  which  he  is  taken  out. 

"2nd.  Selection  of  animals.  Those  who  have  the  manage- 
ment of  the  amphitheater  wish  to  obtain  the  wildest  and  fat- 
test animals  that  can  be  found.  Having  made  a  contract 
with  the  owner  "of  a  herd  they  employ  experienced  men  to 
select  the  animals.  They  go  into  the  inclosure  where  the 
herd  is  collected,  mounted  on  horseback,  and  by  the  use  of 
the  experience  and  practice  of  years,  and  with  great  danger 
to  their  own  lives  and  to  those  of  their  horses,  they  effect  the 
separation  of  the  chosen  animals  from  the  rest  of  the  herd. 
It  nearly  always  happens  that  one  or  two  horses  are  left  dead 
in  the  inclosure.  The  separation  being  accomplished  they 
drive  the  animals  to  the  town  and  shut  them  up  in  the  lot 
adjoining  the  amphitheater.  And  with  that  the  adventure  of 
these  men  is  finished. 

"3rd.  The  Corrida  (the  fight).  Generally  the  animals  are 
tortured  in  the  afternoon.  The  next  morning  a  clown, 
dressed  in  gay  colors  and  with  his  face  painted,  followed  by 


160    '  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

the  company  of  torreros  in  the  red,  green  and  blue  costumes, 
in  which  they  fight,  and  accompanied  by  a  multitude  of  com- 
mon people  and  a  band  of  music,  go  through  the  streets  to 
.announce  the  Corrida. 

1 '  When  the  hour  has  arrived  in  which  the  spectators  are  to 
assemble  the  band  station  themselves  in  a  convenient  place 
and  pour  out  their  melodies  on  the  air  for  the  purpose  of  at- 
tracting all  who  have  the  taurine  taste  (el  gusto  taurino). 
Very  soon  crowds  of  persons  are  seen  to  pour  in,  filling  the 
amphitheater  in  a  few  instants  till  not  another  one  can  find  a 
place  on  the  seats  before  alluded  to. 

"The  judge  of  .the  Corrida  notifies  the  corneteer,  who  is  by 
his  side,  when  the  time  to  begin  has  arrived.  He  gives  the 
signal  and  a  furious  bull,  which  has  been  pricked  and  tor- 
tured for  the  purpose  of  exciting  to  the  highest  degree  all 
his  fierce  instincts,  rushes  through  the  door  into  the  arena. 

' '  The  sight  of  so  many  people  about  him  further  arouses 
his  fury,  and  with  the  velocity  of  a  cannon  ball  he  hurls  him- 
self upon  his  opponents,  who  are  waiting  for  him.  For  a 
few  minutes  the  arrastradores  play  with  him,  deceiving  him 
with  their  capotes.  The  arrastrador  is  a  man  who  carries  a 
red  sheet  or  capote  stretched  on  rods.  He  infuriates  the  ani- 
mal by  running  toward  him  with  the  capote  extended  before 
him.  The  animal  plunges  his  horns  through  the  capote,  but 
the  arrastrador  has  nimbly  sprung  from  behind  it  so  that  only 
the  capote  is  gored.  There  are  usually  two  arrastradores. 

1 '  The  two  cazadores  on  spirited  horses  display  their  skill  in 
throwing  the  lasso,  in  which  art  figure  more  than  one  hun- 
dred ways  of  catching  the  animal.  The  topador,  mounted  on 
a  very  poor  horse,  so  that  his  ability  may  be  the  more  con- 
spicuous, has  an  opportunity  to  show  his  herculean  strength 
by  arresting  the  attacks  of  the  brute  with  the  point  of  his 
spear. 

"  In  the  meantime  the  bandarilleros  arm  themselves  with 
their  bandarillas  to  await  their  turn.  The  bandarillas  are 
sticks  tipped  with  sharp  iron  and  ornamented  with  bright 
paper;  one  of  them  is  in  the  shape  of  a  large  flower;  this  one 


THE  LORD'S  DAY.  161 

they  nail  into  his  forehead.  There  are  generally  three  of 
these  men,  including  the  captain.  Their  turn  arrives,  and  at 
the  order  of  the  judge  they  enter  the  arena.  Each  one  in  his 
turn  tantalizes  the  furious  wild  beast,  and  then  one  after 
another  they  spring  on  his  horns  and  drive  a  pair  of  sharp 
irons  into  his  back.  When  they  have  tortured  him  to  their 
own  satisfaction,  and  that  of  the  spectators,  the  order  is 
given  to  kill  him.  This  act  nearly  always  devolves  on  the 
captain.  He  takes  his  sword,  and  in  the  manner  which  is 
prescribed  by  his  art  plunges  it  behind  his  shoulder  into  his 
heart. 

"The  play  with  one  animal  being  thus  ended  they  continue 
with  another  and  another  till  three  are  killed,  that  being  the 
number  employed  in  each  Corrida." 

Often  horses  are  killed,  and  not  seldom  a  torrero.  In  one 
of  the  Corridas  given  for  the  building  of  the  chapel  I  have 
mentioned  a  man  was  killed,  and  it  was  characteristic  of  a 
people  so  educated  that  they  expressed  themselves  as  '  *  well 
pleased  that  he  was  killed  because  he  went  into  tl\e  arena 
drunk.'' 

The  gentlemen  and  the  feminine  portion  of  the  best  society 
did  not  attend  corridas  de  toros  regularly,  just  as  they  did  not 
go  to  all  the  theatrical  performances  that  came  along;  they 
only  went  when  there  was  some  unusual  attraction,  or  when 
it  was  for  the  church  or  some  other  benevolent  object.  The 
fresh,  young  faces  of  the  boys  of  the  best  families  were  sel- 
dom missing  from  the  amphitheater.  It  was  Don  Francisco's 
habit  to  inquire  of  his  boys,  in  his  pleasant  way,  every  Sun- 
day evening,  after  they  had  attended  a  Corrida,  ' '  if  the  toros 
and  the  horses  were  well  killed." 

Good  fortune  had  brought  the  greatest  torrero  of  Mexico  to 
Salta  during  the  building  of  this  chapel.  This  torrero,  Pon- 
ciano  Diaz — who,  I  beg  leave  to  state,  is  not  a  relative  of 
Sefior  Don  Porfirio  Diaz,  the  president  of  the  republic — had 
come  bringing  with  him  several  other  torreros  who  fought 
under  his  direction.  The  bands  of  music,  accompanied  by  a 
large  crowd  of  people,  among  whom  were  some  of  the  prin- 
11 


162  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

cipal  men  of  the  town,  friends  of  the  celebrated  torrero,  had 
met  him  some  way  from  the  town  as  he  came  from  the  rail- 
way station.  He  was  conducted  to  the  best  hotel  of  the  town 
where  he  was  received  as  a  distinguished  man.  His  visit  to 
this  comparatively  insignificant  place  was  a  favor  which  the 
town  could  not  have  reasonably  expected,  for  he  had  recently 
returned  from  Europe  loaded  with  honors  and  riches.  He 
had  been  received  in  the  City  of  Mexico  with  no  little  ap- 
plause and  with  no  little  flattering  notice  by  the  newspapers. 

1The  church  society  of  Salta  appointed  a  meeting  and  con- 
sul^d  with  tremulous  enthusiasm.  They  went  in  a  body  to 
request  "Don"  Ponciano  Diaz  to  give  one  ef  his  entertain- 
ments for  the  benefit  of  the  chapel.  The  president  of  the 
society,  Dofia  Flavia  Salizar  de  Urbina,  was  to  present  the 
petition;  and  never  was  there  a  president  of  a  society  of 
ladies  who  could  present  a  petition  to  a  distinguished  person- 
age with  more  impressive  elegance. 

The  great  man  received  the  ladies  with  all  the  grace  and 
dignity  of  a  bull- fighter.  With  many  gracious  compliments, 
circumlocutions  and  smiles,  with  much  dwelling  on  the  good 
cause  to  which  he  would  be  lending  a  helping-hand,  and  per- 
haps with  some  delicate  hints  that  it  might  be  for  the  good 
of  his  own  soul,  since  we  are  all  sinners,  or  at  lea'st  that  it 
might  be  a  work  of  supererogation  that  would  be  set  down 
to  the  credit  of  some  poor  soul,  the  request  was  presented. 

With  the  delicacy  and  tact  that  would  naturally  be  conspic- 
uous in  the  character  of  a  gentleman  of  his  profession  Don 
Ponciano  gave  the  ladies  to  understand  that  he  was  now 
worth  thirty  thousand  dollars,  fruits  of  his  toils  in  Europe; 
why  should  he  still  risk  his  life?  Why  should  he  not  retire 
from  business  and  live  like  other  gentlemen  on  his  income? 
However,  as  the  ladies  were  importunate  he  condescended 
to  ride  through  the  town  hi  the  procession  accompanied  by 
some  of  the  principal  men  of  the  city;  and  they  should  of 
course  have  the  proceeds  of  a  corrida.  And  their  point  being 

1  Note. — A  young  lady  belonging  to  the  best  society  of  the  town  related 
to  me  this  call  on  "Don"  Ponciano.  She  was,  perhaps,  herself  one  of  the 
society. 


THE  LORD'S  DAY.  163 

at  least  partially  gained  the  ladies  retired  with  many  thanks 
to  their  benefactor. 

The  chapel  had  been  finished  at  last,  and  the  girl-faced 
"saint"  in  his  longTobes  had  been  placed  on  a  pedestal,  his 
feet  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  floor  to  be  kissed  by 
the  children.  It  was  nearly  all  paid  for,  too;  they 'owed  now 
only  a  small  sum  for  the  new  robes  in  which  they  had  dressed 
the  saint.  They  hoped  to  pay  for  these  with  the  proceeds 
which  were  accruing  from  the  raffling  of  various  fancy  ar- 
ticles. 

Dona  Flavia  and  Mercedes  were  busy  this  afternoon  finish- 
ing, the  former,  an  exquisite  sofa  cushion,  the  latter,  a  linen 
handkerchief  which  she  was  ornamenting  with  drawn  work. 
On  the  morrow  Maria  would  carry  both  of  these  articles, 
wrapped  in  a  snowy  towel,  from  house  to  house  together 
with  the  paper  on  which  were  to  be  written  the  amounts  paid 
for  the  chance  of  drawing  the  lucky  numbers. 

Both  Dona  Flavia  and  Mercedes  were  sad  and  the  conver- 
sation between  them  was  not  animated.  Dofia  Flavia  had  at 
first  felt  humiliated  by  the  failure  to  rule  her  husband  or 
leave  him.  Then  her  better  feelings  had  waked  up  and  she 
had  reflected  that  he  was  good  and  kind  notwithstanding  the 
errors  of  his  creed  and  practice.  She  felt  that  she  had  stood 
on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  and  she  rejoiced  that  she  had 
been  kept  from  bringing  herself  and  her  family  into  notoriety 
by  taking  the  fatal  step.  Silent  martyrdom  would  be  better 
than  that. 

These  feelings  had  lasted  a  few  days  till  she  had  confessed 
to  the  Senor  Cure  and  he  had  strengthened  her  faltering 
resolutions  "to  give  her  husband  no  rest  nor  peace  till  he 
should  consent  to  do  what  would  be  for  the  good  of  his  own 
soul  and  those  of  his  children — abandon  Free  Masonry  and 
return  to  the  bosom  of  the  Holy  Mother  Church  out  of  which 
there  was  no  salvation."  These  resolutions  were  further 
strengthened  by  the  announcement  of  the  bishop's  visit. 
Her  troubled  soul  rejoiced  that  she  was  to  have  advice  and 
consolation  from  so  eminent  an  authority  in  the  Church;  it 


164  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

would  be  almost  as  if  the  Holy  Father  in  Rome  should  speak 
to  her! 

Mercedes  had  been  troubled  ever  since  the  day  of  the  con- 
versation between  Dona  Flavia  and  Dofia  Concepcion.  She 
had  noticed  since  that  day  that  Dona  Flavia  had  spent 
more  time  than  usual  in  the  church  praying  to  one  or  another 
' 'saint";  that  often  Don  Francisco  and  she  did  not  appear  in 
the  dining  room  at  the  same  hour,  the  one  complaining  of 
headache,  the  other  of  unusual  business  in  his  office;  that 
they  were  seldom  both  in  the  parlor  in  the  evenings  at  the 
same  time,  and  that  both  of  them  were  always  preoccupied 
and  not  cheerful.  Two  or  three  evenings  when  she  and  other 
girls  had  left  the  parlor  to  promenade  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  look  at  the  moon  and  stars  and  ' '  talk, "  she  had  watched 
him  through  the  study  window  sitting  at  the  center  table  on 
which  the  student's  lamp  burned,  his  head  resting  on  one  or 
both  hands,  and  the  "Monitor  Republican©"  spread  out 
before  him.  And  she  saw  that  for  an  hour  at  a  time  the 
paper  was  not  moved. 

The  night  before,  as  she  lay  awake  because  of  a  vague  dread 
that  some  great  trouble  was  coming,  she  had  heard  steps  in 
the  court  and  slipping  across  the  room  and  peeping  through 
the  curtain  she  had  seen  Don  Francisco  standing  under  an 
orange  tree.  He  was  looking  at  the  stars,  and  now  and  then 
he  rubbed  his  hand  across  his  forehead.  As  she  watched 
him  he  stepped  to  the  fountain  and,  lifting  the  water  in  his 
hand,  he  bathed  his  forehead  as  if  he  were  feverish.  He  had 
evidently  not  retired,  though  she  knew  from  the  striking  of 
the  town  clock  it  was  two. 

It  was  sad,  she  reflected,  that  so  noble  and  talented  a  man 
should  be  a  Mason.  She  knew  nothing  about  Masonry 
except  that  it  was  a  secret  order  which  was  opposed  to 
"religion";  and  according  to  report  they  did  dreadful  things 
in  their  secret  meetings.  It  was  even  said  that  they  kept  a 
pot  of  poison  in  their  hall  which  they  made  use  of  when  their 
secrets  were  revealed.  But  would  the  genial,  dignified,  hon- 
orable Don  Francisco  do  dreadful  things?  She  could  not 


THE  LORD'S  DAY.  165 

believe  it,  and  yet — .  The  evil,  she  had  heard  (it  was  aston- 
ishing how  much  she  had  heard  in  the  last  two  weeks),  was 
wide  spread.  The  very  president  of  the  republic  was  a 
Mason— he  was  the  Grand  Master  of  .the  Grand  Symbolical 
Diet,  they  said;  and  Mercedes  thought  he  must  have  advanced 
very  far  in  wickedness  to  have  such  a  title  as  that.  She  had 
been  told  that  most,  if  not  all,  his  Cabinet  and  nearly  all  of 
the  most  prominent  men  of  the  nation  were  Masons. 

Would  they  all — all  of  these  men  who  were  trying  so  ear- 
nestly to  lift  up  the  republic  and  make  it  equal  to  the  greatest 
nations — would  they  all  do  dreadful  things?  And  yet,  poor 
Dofia  Flavia!  And  she  knew  from  chance  remarks  that  she 
had  heard  that  there  were  many  other  wives  who  were 
greatly  troubled,  and  some  of  them  had  even  threatened  to 
leave  their  husbands. 

At  last  the  cushion  was  finished  and  Dofia  Plavia  clasped 
her  white,  jeweled  hands  over  its  bright  colors.  Mercedes 
had  already  put  the  last  stitch  into  the  handkerchief  and  was 
patting  it  as  it  lay  folded  on  her  knee. 

"Well,"  said  Dofia  Flavia  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  "this  time 
to-morrow,  if  God  wills  it,  the  Sefior  Bishop  will  be  here." 

"Yes.  Sefiora." 

"I  have  been  thinking,  my  daughter,  that  this  would  be  a 
good  opportunity  for  you  to  be  confirmed.  I  shall  have 
Anita  and  Pancho  confirmed  while  he  is  here.  My  other 
children  were  confirmed  in  infancy,  only  a  day  or  two  after 
they  were  baptized,  but  owing  to  some  circumstances  the 
confirmation  of  these  two  children  has  been  neglected  until 
now,"  and  a  shadow  flitted  across  her  face.  The  "some  cir- 
cumstances" were  Don  Francisco's  indifference  about  it.  She 
thought  of  this  and  a  good  many  other  little  things  with  new 
bitterness,  now. 

'  'I  don't  know,  Sefiora,  I  should  have  to  confess  first,  and 
I  would  rather  not  confess,"  replied  Mercedes  quickly, 
remembering  her  father's  commands  about  it,  and  the  terrible 
—not  exactly  remorse  nor  repentance — but  "feelings"  she 
had  had  about  the  masses. 


166  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"Why,  dear, "said Dona Flavia,  smiling  insinuatingly,  "you 
have  not  done  something  that  you  object  to  confessing,  I 
hope." 

Mercedes'  face  flushed  with  indignation.  She  saw  the  cun- 
ning of  the  remark — but  dimly,  for  like  most  persons  of  inno- 
cent and  sincere  natures  she  was  slow  to  believe  evil  of  others. 
Later,  in  her  own  room,  she  said  to  herself  fiercely,  "She 
wanted  to  force  me  in  that  contemptible  way  to  confess.  I 
despise  her!"  and  her  feelings  were  all  the  more  strong 
because  she  felt  that  her  rage  was  impotent.  She  was  correct 
in  her  inference;  Dofia  Flavia  had  not  been  under  Jesuit 
influence  all  the  days  of  her  life  for  nothing. 

Mercedes  was  always  helpless  when  she  received  an  under- 
hand thrust,  even  when  it  was  given  by  one  of  her  own  age 
to  whom  she  might  have  replied.  It  was  so  both  because  she 
was  slow  to  believe  in  the  evil  intention  of  the  other,  and 
because  she  felt  that  if  she  should  reply  in  the  same  manner 
she  should  be  as  despicable  as  the  one  who  had  given  the 
first  thrust.  She  always  let  such  things  pass  without  notice, 
and  therefore  she  was  considered  by  some  "a  poor-spirited" 
girl.  She  replied  now  with  some  confusion,  and  making  an 
effort  to  tell  the  truth: 

"No — yes — I  can't  bear  to  think  of  being  questioned  about 
my  inmost  thoughts  by  any  person." 

*  'O,  it  isn't  so  bad.  You  have  an  exaggerated  idea  of  the 
difficulties  of  the  confession.  And  besides  the  priests  who 
will  come  with  the  Sefior  Bishop  to  confess  the  people  are 
elegant  gentlemen;  you  cannot  fail  to  admire  them.  You 
would  look  so  well  in  the  confirmation  dress.  Come  into  my 
room  and  let  me  show  you  Anita's. " 

Mercedes  followed  her  as  she  led  the  way  to  her  room. 
She  spread  out  the  dainty  little  dress  and  gauzy  veil  on  the 
bed. 

"And  here, "she  said,  taking  something  off  the  shelf  of  the 
wardrobe,  "here  is  a  beautiful  white  dress  which  I  have  just 
had  made  for  Magdalena;  I  dare  say  it  would  fit  you  quite 
well.  You  could  be  confirmed  in  it,  and  you  could  wear  my 


THE  LORD'S  DAY.  167 

wedding  veil;  I  have  it  yet.  Think  about  it,  dear.  You 
should  be  willing  to  do  anything  that  would  be  for  the  good 
of  your  soul." 

4  'I  will  think  about  it,  Sefiora.  But  it  is  not  likely  that  I 
shall  change  my  mind."  After  a  little  more  conversation  she 
said,  "I  will  go  to  my  room  now,  Dofia  Flavia,  with  your 
permission." 

"Go  with  God,"  said  the  lady  kindly,  using  an  ordinary, 
but  a  tender  adieu.  She  had  never  been  so  affectionate  with 
Mercedes  before. 


168  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  SEftOR  BISHOP. 

TltE  next  Tuesday  morning  Dofia  Flavia  and  the  Bishop 
sat  together  in  the  parlor.  The  afternoon  before  the 
whole  town  had  been  moved  to  receive  him.  Not  even  the 
coming  of  "Don"  Ponciano  Diaz  had  stirred  them  more. 
Several  of  the  most  prominent  men  of  the  city  had,  according 
to  established  custom,  met  him  at  the  station,  though  at  least 
one  of  them  had  observed,  with  a  smile:  "  This  is  a  great  ado 
over  a  mere  man  like  myself.  The  other  day  when  I  arrived 
from  Paris  there  was  no  such  stir  as  this." 

A  few  miles  from  town  a  multitude  of  people  had  met  Don 
Francisco's  handsome  carriage,  in  which  the  Senor  Bishop 
and  three  inferior  priests  were  seated.  While  the  gentlemen 
of  the  town  were  saluting  him  and  kissing  his  hand  the  men 
unhitched  the  horses  from  the  carriage  and  tied  two  long 
ropes  to  the  tongue.  When  the  salutations  were  over  the 
women  seized  the  ropes  and  drew  the  carriage  along  the 
dusty  road.  The  Senor  Bishop  was  in  his  black,  sacerdotal 
robes,  and  as  they  passed  along  his  hand  on  which  flashed 
the  pastoral  ring  showered  apostolic  blessings  on  the  kneel- 
ing people.  When  the  women  were  overcome  with  fatigue 
the  men  took  the  ropes  and  completed  the  journey,  drawing 
the  carriage  through  the  streets  adorned  with  arches,  orna- 
mented with  colored  paper,  banners  and  images,  till  they 
stopped  in  front  of  Don  Francisco's  house.  There  Dofia 
Flavia,  her  children,  and  by  special  request,-  Mercedes,  stood 
to  give  him  and  the  others  a  cordial  welcome. 

Don  Francisco  was  not  there,  neither  did  he  see  him  till  he 
came  to  supper;  the  business  in  his  office  was  very  pressing, 
indeed,  this  week.  Though  when  he  could  not  avoid  being 
with  the  Sefior  Bishop  he  omitted  no  stately  courtesy,  his 


THE    SENOR  BISHOP.  169 

prevailing  feeling  toward  him  was  the  wish  that  he  could  open 
his  massive,  carved  front  doors,  and  call  his  servants  to  kick 
the  elegant  bishop  into  the  street.  It  was  of  that  he  was 
thinking  when  Mercedes  had  seen  him  under  the  orange  tree 
a  few  nights  before.  Well  he  knew  that  every  incident  of 
his  domestic  life  would  be  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  that  man. 
All  the  forty  years  of  his  married  life  he  had  writhed  under 
the  thought  that  some  priest  or  other  knew,  or  could  know  if 
he  wished,  every  thought  of  his  that  he  had  ever  confided  to 
his  wife. 

On  this  Tuesday  morning  the  Sefior  Bishop  was  standing 
by  the  piano  admiring  a  vase  of  flowers.  He  lifted  the  vase 
and  held  it  now  near  to  enjoy  the  perfume,  now  at  a  little, 
distance  to  admire  their  beauty.  "  How  exquisite !"  he  ex- 
claimed. "What  delicate  perfume,  and  what  a  wonderful 
blending  of  colors!  When  I  was  in  college  Botany  was  one 
of  my  favorite  studies. " 

"I  think  a  love  for  flowers  is  a  characteristic  of  all  great 
souls,"  replied  Dona  Flavia. 

He  was  a  very  handsome  man;  he  was  tall  and  finely  pro- 
portioned, elegant  in  dress  and  irreproachable  in  manner. 
He  had  a  liberal  education,  and  to  this  were  added  a  rich, 
melodious  voice,  and  a  poetical  way  of  expressing  his 
thoughts.  His  fine,  clean-shaven  face  wore  an  expression 
that  was  generally  considered  benevolent.  He  was  about 
forty-five  years  of  age.  As  he  held  up  the  vase  his  magnifi- 
cent figure  showed  to  full  advantage  in  the  dress  of  a  private 
gentleman. 

Dona  Flavia  sat  in  a  wicker  rocker,  as  handsome  in  her 
way  as  the  Sefior  Bishop.  Her  face  was  a  little  flushed. 
These  observations  about  the  flowers  and  his  ' '  great  soul " 
were  only  a  parenthesis  in  the  conversation.  She  had  been 
telling  him  her  domestic  troubles. 

"Yes,  Senora,"  said  the  Senor  Bishop,  suddenly  setting 
down  the  vase  of  flowers,  * '  Free  Masonry  is  the  deification 
of  Satan.  It  deceives  and  mocks  the  people  with  promises 
which  it  never  fulfills.  But  only  in  nations,  such  as  Italy 


170  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

and  France,  where  it  enjoys  unbridled  liberty,  have  they 
made  public  the  fact  that  they  adore  Lucifer  as  God,  and  that 
they  are  working  everywhere  to  substitute  his  worship  for 
the  Christian  worship.  Satanism  or  Masonry!  this  is  the 
real  obstacle  which  prevents  the  nations  from  going  forward 
in  the  road  of  progress  and  true  civilization!" 

Dona  Flavia's  eyes  dilated  with  horror.  If  he  had  told  her 
her  husband  was  a  cannibal  she  would  not  have  been  much 
more  impressed. 

"Yes,  Senora;  but  happily  this  declaration,  made  only  by 
Catholics  a  few  years  ago,  is  to-day  on  the  lips  of  all  those 
who  contemplate  the  shameful  backwardness  of  the  nations 
which  are  governed  by  Masonry.  Protestants,  Rationalists, 
and  even  Atheists  who  do  not  belong  to  this  community  of 
the  devil  abominate  it,  considering  it  the  most  formidable 
enemy  of  happiness  both  of  individuals  and  of  nations! 

"Why  should  we  conceal  the  fact?"  went  on  the  Sefior 
Bishop  warmly.  ' '  Evil  triumphs,  and  perhaps  in  the  next 
century  there  will  be  built  public  basilicas  and  altars  where 
in  the  midst  of  heinous  abominations  the  highest  worship 
will  be  rendered  to  the  Enemy  of  our  nature.  The  great 
periods  of  history  always  terminate  with  the  preponderance 
of  evil  over  good,  with  the  empire  of  Satan  over  man."  The 
Sefior  Bishop  paused  to  allow  these  fearful  truths  to  take 
effect  on  the  mind  of  his  hearer;  then  he  continued  in  another 
tone: 

"At  last  the  truth  will  prevail.  But  God  has  wished  to 
reserve  those  supreme  triumphs  for  himself.  When  the  time 
is  fulfilled  he  will  hurl  the  lightning  of  his  omnipotent  justice 
which  will  reduce  to  powder,  as  if  they  were  frail  vessels  of 
clay,  the  nations  which  proudly  rise  up  against  Him  and  his 
Christ"1 

.This  rose-colored  view  of  the  end  of  Free  Masonry  gave 
little  comfort  to  the  spirit  of  Dofia  Flavia,  since  it  was  prob- 
able that  her  husband  and  sons  would  be  involved  in  the 
catastrophe.  As  dreadful  as  it  had  seemed  to  her  before  she 

lNote. — All  of  this  interesting-  and  important  information  about  Free 
Masonry  is  translated  verbatim  et  liberatim  from  El  Tiempo. 


THE    SENOR   BISHOP.  171 

had  not  thought  it  was  so  bad  as  this.  She  listened  with  a 
lacerated  heart  to  the  instructions  which  the  Senor  Bishop 
gave  her  as  to  the  manner  of  winning  back  her  husband  to 
the  Church.  They  were  similar  to  those  which  she  had 
before  received  from  the  Senor  Cure. 

Just  then  the  folding  doors  opened,  and  Mercedes,  who 
had  been  requested  to  come  in  after  school  hours,  entered. 
Dona  Flavia  had  found  time  to  tell  him  something  of  her. 
His  face  lighted  with  pleasure  as  he  went  to  meet  her. 

'  -My  daughter,  you  have  come  in  to  sit  with  us  awhile. 
We  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  your  company. " 

"Thank  you,  Senor,"  replied  Mercedes  as  she  kissed  his 
hand.  He  led  her  to  a  seat  and  then  sat  down  in  an  armchair 
no.t  far  from  her. 

"The  Senora  Urbina  has  been  telling  me  of  your  love  foi 
books.  I  think  we  must  be  kindred  spirits,"  he  remarked, 
smiling  kindly  at  her. 

"Yes,  Senor,  I  am  fond  of  reading,"  she  said,  simply. 

"Will  you  tell  me  who  is  your  favorite  author?" 

"I — think  the  Biografies  of  Distinguished  Mexicans  is  a 
very  interesting  book." 

"Ah,  yes;  with  what  appreciation  the  author  writes  of  the 
authors,  sculptors,  artists,  and  warriors  of  Mexico!" 

"Yes,  I  read  the  biography  of  St.  Felipe  de  Jesus  in  that 
book.  It  was  very  interesting.  It  was  a  grand  day  when 
the  news  that  the  Holy  Father,  Urban  VIII.,  had  canonized 
him  was  received  in  Mexico.  What  grand  fiestas  they  had  in 
honor  of  it!  And  his  mother  went  out  in  the  solemn  proces- 
sion by  the  side  of  the  viceroy;  and  the  government  gave  her 
and  his  four  sisters  a  pension  because  her  son  had  been 
canonized.  Those  were  the  days  in  which  the  Church  was 
respected  in  Mexico.  Ah  me!"  observed  Dona  Flavia.  She 
seldom  read  anything  but  the  mass  book,  the  catechism,  and 
other  Catholic  books  of  devotion,  and  she  was  glad  of  this 
opportunity  to  display  some  knowledge  of  general  literature. 

The  Bishop  made  some  appropriate  reply  and  then  went 
on  talking  about  the  artists  and  literary  men  of  Mexico, 


172  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

many  of  whom  he  knew  personally.  Mercedes  thought  she 
had  never  had  the  privilege  of  listening  to  so  charming  a 
conversationalist.  '  'How  condescending,  how  fatherly,  how 
delightful  he  is!"  she  said  to  herself.  *  'If  my  father  could 
have  known  such  priests  as  he,  he  would  not  have  disliked 
them  so." 

At  last  he  gracefully  introduced  the  subject  of  religion. 
After  some  preliminary  remarks,  he  said: 

"By  the  way,  my  daughter,  have  you  been  confirmed?" 

"No,  Senor." 

His  look  of  interest  changed  into  one  of  fatherly  solicitude 
as  he  said:  i 

"My  dear  daughter,  you  should  not  longer  neglect  that 
duty  and  privilege.  You  can  not  hope  to  enjoy  the  presence 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  until  you  have  been  confirmed.  Will  you 
not  allow  me  the  pleasure  and  honor  of  confirming  you  while 
I  am  here?" 

Mercedes  felt  her  face  growing  very  hot. 

The  Bishop  continued,  adopting  the  tender  and  beautiful 
"thou"  form  of  the  Spanish: 

"Tell  me,  dost  thou  walk  far  from  God?  How  many  years 
hast  thou  had  no  peace  in  thy  soul?  As  many  at  least  as  thou 
hast  been  wanting  in  compliance  with  the  requirements  of 
the  Church.  Dost  thou  long  for  peace?  Resolve,  then,  at 
once,  think  a  few  minutes,  cast  one  glance  over  thy  con- 
science, give  one  step  more  and  thou  hast  done  it  all.  Never 
let  fall  from  thy  lips,  my  daughter,  that  excuse,  as  foolish  as 
impious:  'I  confess  only  to  God!'  Those  who  so  proudly 
blaspheme  of  confessing  only  to  God,  it  is  certain  that  they 
never  remember  that  God  exists.  It  is  as  ridiculous  as  if  a 
criminal  invited  to  present  himself  before  the  authorities  to 
receive  pardon,  should  say,  'I  will  not  present  myself  to  any 
one  except  the  king.'  But  suppose  the  king  should  not  wish 
you  to  appear  before  him,  but  before  those  whom  he  has 
elected  to  represent  him?  'No,'  he  replies,  'I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  any  one  but  his  Majesty!'  Dost  thou 
know,  my  dear  daughter,  what  would  happen  to  one  who 


THE   SENOR  BISHOP.  173 

should  act  thus?  Putting  off  presenting  himself  before  the 
authorities?  The  civil  authority  would  seize  him  and  he 
would  pay  dearly  for  his  nonsense.  Now,  make  the  applica- 
tion. God  has  declared  that  he  does  not  wish  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  thee  except  through  the  intervention  of  his 
priests.  Thou  hast  the  offer  of  pardon.  Who  knows  if 
while  thou  refusest  to  accept  it  under  the  conditions  with 
which  it  is  offered  death  will  seize  thee,  for  he  has  a  great 
liking  for  pouncing  on  the  unprepared.  Believe  me,  my 
beloved  daughter!  Come  in  time!  What  detains  thee?  Is  it 
shame?  That  is  a  great  sin !" 

Mercedes  could  make  DO  reply  to  these  arguments.  She 
sat  with  bowed  head  and  crimson  face,  listening. 

'  'The  Senora  Urbina  has  told  me  that  you  dread  the  con- 
fessional. But  the  only  gate  to  heaven  is  through  confession 
to  the  priest.  Christ  showed  us  this  when  he  delivered  the 
keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  St.  Peter.  He  made  him 
the  porter  to  open  and  shut  the  gate.  He  would  not  then 
admit  souls  to  eternal  life  in  any  other  way;  that  would  be 
an  inconsistency  of  which  we  could  not  imagine  our  Lord 
guilty,  could  we?"1 

"Is  confirmation  necessary  to  salvation?"  asked  Mercedes 
timidly. 

4 'No, "he  replied  gently,  "you  were  regenerated  and  there- 
fore saved  by  your  baptism,  you  know." 

"Regeneration.  That  means  a  great  change  in  one's  char- 
acter, does  it  not?" 

"Yes." 

"It  has  always  seemed  a  pity  to  me  that  it  should  take 
place  in  infancy,  so  that  no  one  ever  feels  the  change,  or  has 
any  idea  how  it  is."2 

lNote> — These  arguments  for  confirmation  and  confession  are  trans- 
lated from  El  Tierapo. 

*Note. — Mercedes,  of  course,  looked  at  baptism  from  the  Catholic 
standpoint.  I  read  or  heard  of  a  very  extraordinary  occurrence  which, 
it  was  said,  happened  here  in  Mexico:  A  girl  of  about  thirteen  years  of 
age  was  baptized.  She  had  been  brought  up  far  out  in  the  mountains, 
and  either  through  the  neglect  or  purpose  of  her  parents  she  had  been 


174  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"But  it  is  proper  that  baptism  should  be  conferred  on 
infants,  and  it  should  be  done  as  soon  as  possible,  without 
danger  to  them."  And  he  proceeded  to  prove  this  to  her  by 
quotations  from  the  Decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  the 
Fathers,  and  the  Sacred  Scriptures. 

"But  it  is  wonderful  that  such  great  and  far-reaching 
changes  should  follow  so  simple  a  ceremony. " 

"Yes.  But  all  great  things  are  simple,"  said  the  Senor 
Bishop. 

"I  thank  you  for  the  explanation,  Father.  But  I  think," 
she  added,  with  a  light  laugh,  "there  must  have  been  some- 
thing wrong  with  my  baptism.  Perhaps  the  Father  omitted 
a  word  or  two  in  the  ceremony  and  the  charm  was  broken. 
I  am  not  conscious  of  having  any  title  to  the  privileges  which 
it  confers. " 

"You  cannot  expect  to  have  peace  of  mind  until  you  have 
availed  yourself  of  all  the  privileges  of  the  Church. "  And 
then  he  quoted  the  Fathers  to  prove  to  her  that  "the  sacra- 
ment of  confirmation"  was  instituted  by  the  Lord,  and  that 
through  it  the  '  'love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts  by 

deprived  of  the  "holy  sacrament  of  baptism."  She  had  heard  of  it, 
however,  and  of  its  wonderful  virtues,  and  she  finally  effected  her  escape 
from  her  home,  reached  a  town,  and  asked  in  the  streets  for  "holy  bap- 
tism." The  wealthy  ladies  came  to  hear  of  it  and  they  were  mightily 
moved.  They  dressed  her  as  a  bride  and  conducted  her  to  the  font. 
But  neither  the  priest  nor  they  could  understand  how  baptism  was  to  be 
conferred  on  a  person  who  was  standing;  they  may  have  had  doubts  as 
to  its  validity.  The  girl  was  too  large  to  be  held  in  arms,  so  they  laid 
her  on  a  table  and  the  priest  performed  the  ceremony. 

I  heard  of  a  case  in  which  a  gentleman  from  the  United  States,  desir- 
ing to  marry  a  wealthy  Mexican  young  lady,  was  suddenly  converted  to 
Catholicism.  He  stood  up  in  front  of  the  altar  and  declared  to  the  con- 
gregation that  he  had  never  before  known  the  true  faith;  then  he  laid 
himself  on  a  table  and  was  "baptized."  And  after  all  that  the  young 
lady  broke  the  engagement. 

Another  reason  which  is  given  for  their  being  laid  on  a  table  is  that 
it  is  done  in  obedience  to  that  passage  which  says:  "We  are  buried  with 
Him  by  baptism; "  "for," they  say,  "you  know  people  are  always  buried 
in  a  horizontal  position." 


THE    SENOR  BISHOP.  175 

the  Holy  Spirit,  which  is  given  unto  us";  and  that  by  neglect- 
ing it  one  might  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit. 

And  at  the  end  of  it  all  Mercedes  said,  "You  are  very  kind, 
Father,  I  will  think  of  it. " 

When  Mercedes  had  gone  out  the  Senor  Bishop  and  his 
hostess  talked  of  other  matters  pertaining  to  the  Church. 
They  spoke  sadly  of  the  loss  of  the  temporal  power,  and  the 
Senor  Bishop  again  warmed  into  eloquence: 

"Think,"  he  exclaimed,  "of  the  lonely  prisoner  in  the 
Vatican!  Robbed  of  his  dominions,  and  his  rights  trampled 
on,  he  lives  on  the  contributions  which  the  Catholics  and  a  few 
generous  souls  are  accustomed  to  send  him;  and  in  his  august 
poverty  he  divides  with  the  needy  and  with  the  regions 
chastised  by  penury  and  by  scarcity,  the  bread  which  is  sent 
to  him.  Nobody  is  ignorant  of  the  excellent  qualities  of  the 
pope,  and  nobody  withholds  from  him  the  praise  which  is  his 
due,  and  nevertheless  he  continues  to  be  a  captive,  aban- 
doned by  the  potentates  of  the  earth,  on  whom  rests  the 
obligation  of  going  to  his  assistance,  and  the  responsibility 
of  all  that  he  bears  and  suffers — of  his  lot  so  full  of  privations 
and  bitter  trials. "  * 

The  Senora  Urbina  was  affected  almost  to  tears  by  this 
pathetic  picture. 

Two  days  later  Mercedes,  dressed  as  "a  soul  in  grace," 
that  is,  in  a  white  dress,  a  veil,  and  a  wreath  of  orange  blos- 
soms, glided  across  the  church,  and  knelt  by  a  confessional. 
These,  the  confessionals,  are  small  black  structures,  scarcely 
tall  enough  for  a  man  to  stand  erect  in  them,  and  just  large 
enough  to  contain  one  chair.  'The  penitent  kneels  outside 
and  puts  his  lips  to  the  small  wire-covered  window  and 
whispers  his  confession  into  the  ear  of  the  priest,  which  rests 
against  the  other  side  of  the  wire.  Both  the  priest  and 

lNote. — From  a  sermon  by  the  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  Spain, 
published  in  El  Tiempo.  At  the  time  that  this  sermon  was  published 
nearly  every  copy  of  this  paper  and  others  contained  descriptions  of  the 
princely  presents  which  were  being  received  by  the  Pope  during1  his 
Jubilee. 


176  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

penitent  are  in  full  view  of  those  who  may  be  worshipping 
or  passing  about  the  church. 

After  the  confession  Mercedes  went  to  a  table  at  which  one 
of  the  priests  was  standing  and,  laying  down  twenty-five 
cents,  took  up  a  ticket  which  she  was  to  show  on  the  day  of 
confirmation  to  prove  that  she  had  complied  with  the  pre- 
liminary requirements. 

The  next  Sunday  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  setting,  a 
multitude  of  people  were  gathered  in  front  of  the  church. 
Infants,  children,  and  even  a  few  grown  people  were  waiting 
to  be  confirmed.  Among  the  latter  was  Mercedes,  again  in  a 
white  dress,  veil,  and  orange  blossoms;  and  by  her  side  stood 
Cipriana,  her  god-mother,  whom  Dofia  Flavia  had  been  at 
the  pains  to  dress  in  respectable  black  for  the  occasion. 

As  the  Senor  Bishop  approached  in  miter  and  surplice, 
resplendent  in  jewels  and  gold  and  si]ver  embroidery,  she 
knelt,  and  lifted  to  him,  as  to  a  true  embassador  from  Christ, 
who  possessed  mysterious,  God-given  powers,  her  pure, 
trusting  face,  with  its  tremulous  lips  and  eager,  expectant 
eyes;  for  now,  at  last,  God  was  to  confirm  in  her  the  work 
which  was  begun  in  her  baptism,  and  peace  from  on  high 
was  to  be  given  her. 

The  Bishop  made  with  the  "holy  oil"  the  sign  of  the  cross 
on  her  forehead,  and  said,  with  a  solemn  voice:  "I  seal  thee 
with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  I  confirm  thee  with  the  Chrism 
of  salvation  in  the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  and  of 
the  Holy  Spirit."  He  then  gave  her  a  gentle  blow  on  the 
cheek  to  remind  her  that  she  was  to  bear  bravely  all  adver- 
sities in  the  name  of  Christ;  and  with  a  low,  "Peace  be  with 
thee,"  he  passed  on.  A  priest  followed  with  a  snowy  towel 
and  wiped  the  oil  from  her  forehead,  and  the  Confirmation 
was  over. 

The  next  morning  the  Sefior  Bishop  left,  not  going  with 
pomp  as  he  had  entered  the  town,  for,  as  the  people  declared, 
he  had  gotten  so  much  money  in  the  town  he  knew  it  was 
prudent  to  go  as  secretly  as  possible.  One  face  that  bent 
down  at  Don  Francisco's  door  to  kiss  his  hand  with  its  flash- 


THE   SENOR   BISHOP.  177 

ing  pastoral  ring  was  weary  and  worn.     His  "Peace  with 
thee"  had  brought  no  peace  to  the  owner  of  that  face. 

Why  had  she  confessed  and  been  confirmed?  Because  she 
had  thought  through  feverish  days  and  nights  of  the  solemn, 
tender  words  of  the  Bishop:  "We  ought  to  obey  God  rather 
than  man/'  It  must  not  hereafter  be  her  fault  if  she  had  no 
peace  of  mind. 


178  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SOME   NEW   PACES. 

'^',  and  as  good  of  heart  as  he  was  talented;  he  took 


the  poor  to  eafc  at  his  own  table.  " 

The  speaker  was  an  elderly  gentleman  with  a  kindly  face. 
He  addressed  two  young  ladies.  The  elder  of  the  two  was 
tall  and  slender,  with  gray  eyes  and  brown  hair,  drawn 
smoothly  back  and  gathered  into  a  Grecian  knot.  The  ex- 
pression of  her  face  was  intelligent  and  pleasing.  She  wore 
a  dress  of  some  dark  material.  The  other  young  lady  was 
also  tall  and  slender.  There  was  no  color  about  her  if  we 
except  the  clear  brunette  complexion,  the  bright  red  of  her 
lips,  and  the  fainter  red  of  her  cheeks.  She  wore  a  black 
dress  and  long,  graceful  black  scarf.  Her  hand,  in  a  smooth 
black  kid  glove,  rested  on  the  handle  of  a  plain  black  silk 
parasol.  Her  black  hair  was  straightly  parted,  combed 
smoothly  back  and  the  braids  were  coiled  into  a  knot  just 
above  the  nape  of  her  neck.  Young  as  she  was,  for  she  was 
evidently  not  more  than  eighteen,  there  was  about  her  some- 
thing of  matronly  grace  and  quiet  dignity  of  manner.  And 
yet  there  lurked  in  her  dark  eyes  an  expression  which  indi- 
cated a  keen  appreciation  of  humor.  Altogether  one  felt 
that  behind  that  dark  face  there  was  an  eager,  enthusiastic 
soul. 

They  were  in  the  Academia  de  San  Carlos,  the  Academy  of 
Fine  Arts,  in  the  City  of  Mexico. 

When  they  had  come  up  into  the  galleries  of  paintings  the 
elder  young  lady,  who  had  often  visited  the  Academia,  and, 
indeed,  was  quite  familiar  with  everything  of  interest  in  the 
city,  had  modestly  approached  a  gentleman,  who  was  with- 
out a  hat  and  at  leisure,  and  seemingly  in  charge  of  the 
place,  and  had  requested  him  to  lend  her  a  catalogue  of  the 


SOME  NEW  FACES.  179 

pictures.  He  replied  that  a  catalogue  was  being  prepared, 
but  that  it  was  not  yet  finished.  He  courteously  offered  to 
take  them  through  the  galleries  and  tell  them  about  the 
pictures. 

They  had  gone  first  through  the  galleries  of  old  Mexican 
paintings  belonging  to  the  time  of  the  viceroys,  galleries 
rich  in  paintings  of  Saints  and  Madonnas  with  the  Holy  Child 
and  other  Scripture  subjects — pictures  which  grow  on  the 
beholder  the  longer  he  looks  at  them;  then  they  had  seen  in 
the  European  gallery  the  two  pictures  by  Murillo,  "San  Juan 
de  Dios,"  a»d  "John  the  Baptist  in  the  Desert,"  the  tiny 
picture  of  "Adam  and  Eve  in  Paradise,  and  their  Expulsion, " 
by  Michael  Angelo,  and  many  other  interesting  and  beautiful 
paintings;  and  lastly  they  had  lingered  long  before  the  glory 
of  the  gallery,  Cogette's  ^Deluge." 

They  had  been  through  the  gallery  of  landscapes,  by  mod- 
ern Mexican  artists,  and  had  noticed  with  patriotic  pride 
that  the  most  beautiful  represented  the  Valley  of  Mexico, 
the  beautiful  "Valley  of  Anahuac." 

Their  guide,  who  added  much  to  their  pleasure  by  his  evi- 
dent enjoyment  of  the  part  he  was  'performing,  had  then 
taken  them  back  across  the  European  gallery  to  the  other  two 
galleries  of  modern  Mexican  paintings.  There  he  showed 
them  the  picture  of  Bartolome"  de  las  Casas,  the  Protector  of 
the  Indians, — a  picture  so  large  that  it  had  the  whole  end  of 
one  gallery  to  itself — and  told  them  of  the  young  artist  who 
painted  it;  and  another  by  the  same  artist,  representing 
Galileo  demonstrating  to  a  priest  that  the  world  moves.  The 
pale,  thin  face  of  the  priest  was  full  of  contempt  for  the 
words  of  the  philosopher. 

"He  doesn't  believe  a  word  that  Galileo  says,"  remarked 
the  young  lady  with  the  grey  eyes. 

"Nevertheless  the  world  does  move,"  replied  the  gentle- 
man with  a  smile,  quoting  the  words  which  the  philosopher 
murmured  as  he  arose  from  before  the  pope,  where  he  had, 
under  pain  of  death,  retracted  his  declaration  that  the  world 
moved.  And  so  they  had  gone  from  one  picture  to  another, 


180  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

and  as  they  had  feasted  their  eyes  on  the  rich  and  delicate 
colors,  and  their  souls  on  the  noble  sentiments  which  the  pic- 
tures inspired,  the  guide  delighted  them  with  reminiscences 
of  the  artists. 

At  last  they  stood  before  a  large  painting  which  repre- 
sented Christ  and  the  two  disciples  about  to  enter  the  castle 
of  Emmaus.  They  had  '  'constrained  him,  saying.  Abide  with 
us,  for  the  day  is  far  spent. "  The  red  light  of  the  setting 
sun  was  over  the  castle  and  the  three  figures;  that  of  the 
Savior  was  full  of  majesty  and  grace;  there  was  an  expres- 
sion of  reverence  on  the  faces  of  the  two  disciples,  and  of 
wondering  curiosity  at  the  gracious  words  which  the  Stran- 
ger had  spoken. 

Mercedes — for  the  girl  in  the  black  dress  and  scarf  was 
she — looked  at  it  for  some  time  with  breathless  admiration. 

"It  was  painted  by  Ramon  Sagredo.  He  is  dead  now," 
said  the  gentleman. 

"How  talented  he  was!"  exclaimed  Mercedes,  wishing  she 
could  know  exactly  the  artist's  thoughts  as  he  put  the  colors 
on  the  canvas. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  ' 'and  as  good  of  heart  as  he  was  talented. 
He  took  the  poor  to  eat  at  his  own  table* " 

How  simple  and  beautiful  and  Christlike  the  expression ! 
What  a  fitting  qualification  in  an  artist  who  would  paint  the 
God-man,  him  who  preached  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  who  was 
poor  himself. 

"With  unsteady  lips,  and  eyes  a  little  moist,  Mercedes 
turned  and  saw  for  an  instant  the  tender  abstracted  look  on 
the  face  of  the  man  who  spoke  thus  of  his  dead  friend;  but  a 
slight  movement  caused  her  to  look  beyond  him,  and  full 
into  the  face  of  another  person  who  stood  a  little  behind  him. 
He  was  a  tall  young  man  of  about  one  and  twenty.  He  wore 
very  shabby  clothing;  in  one  hand  he  held  a  much- worn  hat 
and  a  book  on  which  Mercedes  read  the  name,  "Luis  de 
Granada."  His  features  were  characterized  by  strength 
rather  than  by  regularity;  his  complexion  was  dark  and  his 
face  was  slightly  marked  by  the  smallpox.  His  eyes  were 
bright  and  penetrating. 


SOME  NEW  FACES.  181 

At  the  moment  that  Mercedes  turned  intense  feeling 
gleamed  in  his  eyes  and  flashed  from  every  line  of  his  face. 
But  he  was  watching  her,  and  all  of  that  feeling,  gratitude, 
or  whatever  it  was,  was  poured  into  her  eyes  rather  than 
into  those  of  the  gentleman  who  had  uttered  the  touching 
words.  She  involuntarily  looked  into  his  eyes  for  a  moment, 
and  the  look  in  hers  fully  answered  that  in  his.  They 
returned  to  him  sympathy  for  his  poverty,  for  he  was  evi- 
dently one  of  "the  poor;"  enthusiam  for  his  love  of  that 
book1  into  which  the  "friar"  has  poured  so  much  of  his 
poetical  soul,  and  (her  mind  flying  from  one  conclusion  to 
another)  a  fellow  feeling  with  him  in  his  love  for  all  good  and 
noble  things  in  books  and  out  of  them. 

It  was  only  for  an  instant,  then  she  remembered  what  she 
was  doing,  and  turned  away  with  heightened  color.  Her  two 
companions,  occupied  as  they  were  with  the  picture,  had  not 
noticed  her. 

"We  meet,"  says  an  Arabian  proverb,  "in  the  desert  in  the 
dark,  and  lift  our  lanterns  and  look  into  each  other's  faces 
and  then  pass  on. "  But  ever  afterward,  through  whatever 
of  darkness  or  of  light  our  paths  may  lie,  though  we  may 
never  meet  again,  we  remembered  those  persons  whose  souls 
have  answered  ours  and  hope  that  life  goes  well  with  them. 
These  are  moments  of  soul  recognition.  I  am  not  speaking 
now  of  "love  at  first  sight,"  by  any  means;  this  soul  recog- 
nition may  occur  between  persons  of  the  same  sex  and  of  the 
most  unequal  ages. 

The  next  moment  a  party  of  young  people  passed  them 
and  a  girl  remarked  in  a  whisper  that  was  distinctly  audible : 

"What  a  grotesque  object  to  be  in  an  art  gallery!  I  wonder 
that  it  is  permitted. "  And  with  a  flash  of  pain  in  his  face 
the  young  man  moved  away. 

Mercedes  and  her  companion  looked  at  a  few  more  of  the 
pictures,  and  after  cordially  thanking  their  guide  left  the 
Academia. 

lNote. — It  is  said  that  the  author  was  threatened  by  the  Inquisition 
because  of  the  evangelical  sentiments  of  this  book,  and  that  he  occasion- 
ally introduced  the  name  of  Mary  to  escape  condemnation. 


182  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

The  way  Mercedes  came  to  be  in  the  City  of  Mexico  was 
easy  and  natural  enough,  though  she  had  thought  it  was  as 
improbable  that  it  should  ever  happen  as  that  she  should  go 
on  a  trip  to  the  moon. 

Don  Francisco  had  conceived  the  plan  of  bringing  his 
family  to  the  capital  to  spend  the  winter  in  the  hope  that 
new  scenes  might  divert  his  wife's  mind  from  the  dangerous 
channel  in  which  it  was  running.  She  had  willingly  agreed 
to  the  plan,  because  as  Magdalena  had  now  completed  her 
school  life  she  could  enjoy  the  society  of  the  capital. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  a  few  days  after  the  Bishop's 
visit  they  went  first  to  Monterey  to  attend  the  wedding  of  a 
nephew.  Then  leaving  that  city  behind,  sleeping  among  its 
picturesque  mountains,  they  passed  Saltillo  just  after  day- 
light, and  perhaps  a  half  hour  later  the  battlefield  of  Buena 
Vista.  There  were  few  stations  along  the  road,  none  which 
contained  more  than  a  few  houses,  till  they  reached  San  Luis 
Potosi.  It  kept  Mercedes  thinking  that  the  government 
ought  to  bore  some  artesian  wells  and  then  form  a  coloniza- 
tion society.  There  were  towns,  as  she  learned  afterward, 
but  they  were  hidden  behind  hills  a  mile  or  two  from  the 
road. 

The  station  of  San  Luis  Potosi  was  built  in  the  American 
style.  And  what  a  crowd  of  people!  What  rushing  hither 
and  thither!  But  back  of  the  handsome,  new,  modern  build- 
ings about  the  station  were  weather-beaten  Mexican  dwellings 
and  quaint  old  churches  that  looked  like  they  might  belong 
to  the  time  of  the  Conquest. 

Then  night  had  come  and  a  new  day,  and  they  opened 
their  eyes  on  another  world.  The  country  had  been  trans- 
formed, as  if  by  magic,  in  the  night.  Now  there  greeted  their 
eyes  green,  dewy  meadows,  with  starlike  flowers,  wide- 
spreading  trees,  creeks  and  little  rivers  and  lakes,  and  graz- 
ing herds.  The  southern  part  of  Mexico  is  fair  and  fertile  as 
the  land  of  promise. 

But  still  there  were  few  towns  along  the  way;  neither  were 
there  any  country  houses. 


SOME  NEW  FACES.  183 

Once  down  below  them  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  feet 
or  more  they  saw  a  town  the  name  of  which  they  had  been 
seeing  on  stereoscopic  views.  They  could  have  tossed  bis- 
cuits on  the  tops  of  some  of  the  houses.  Just  before  they 
reached  the  City  of  Mexico  the  train  passed  over  the  moun- 
tains. There  were  ravines,  cool,  shady,  green,  and  lovely 
with  flowers;  there  were  trees,  and  clear  mountain  rivulets, 
over  which  old  moss-covered  trunks  of  trees  had  fallen,  form- 
ing foot-logs,  and  little,  dashing,  foaming  cataracts. 

The  train  ascended  majestically,  winding  gracefully,  as  a 
serpent,  in  semicircles  up  the  mountain  side;  not  slowly,  not 
laboring  and  panting  and  stopping  to  rest  like  a  tired  animal, 
as  I  have  been  told  the  trains  ascend  the  Rocky  Mountains; 
but  easily,  continuously,  rapidly,  like  one  who  is  conscious  of 
his  strength  and  glories  in  it. 

As  they  entered  Mexico  they  saw  the  Castle  of  Chapultepec, 
which  stands  on  the  site  of  a  summer  palace  of  Montezuma, 
and  is  now  the  summer  residence  of  the  President  of  the 
Republic. 

They  did  not  rush  into  a  great  car  shed  among  many  other 
trains.  They  stopped  at  an  unpretentious  station;  then  a 
rapid  drive  through  the  paved  streets,  full  of  people,  of 
wagons,  of  carriages,  of  street  cars,  past  stone  and  brick 
houses  of  two,  three  or  four  stories,  past  beautiful  plazas  and 
old  churches,  through  the  principal  drive  of  the  city,  broad 
and  straight  and  level,  and  adorned  with  splendid  bronze 
statues  of  Gautemozin  and  Colombus,  and  an  equestrian 
statue  of  Charles  IV.  of  Spain — the  Little  Trojan  Horse,  as 
the  Mexicans  call  it — the  largest  equestrian  statue  in  the 
world,  except,  perhaps,  that  of  Hadrian  of  Rome;  past  all 
this  and  much  more  till  they  stopped  before  the  handsome 
house  in  San  Cosme  street  which  Don  Francisco  had  taken 
for  his  winter  residence. 

Mercedes  and  her  friend,  when  they  left  the  Academia, 
went  down  the  street  a  little  way,  turned  a  corner  and  went 
up  the  street  toward  the  Cathedral.  As  they  passed  the 
National  Museum  Mercedes'  friend  remarked: 


184  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"How  that  Aztec  calendar  does  stare  at  one?" 

"Yes;  what  a  study  it  is  though!  They  tell  me  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  Free  Masonry  in  it.  It  seems  to  me  nowadays 
there  is  more  or  less  Free  Masonry  in  everything,"  replied 
Mercedes  with  a  grim  smile. 

4  'By  the  way,  you  said  you  had  visited  the  Museum.  What 
interested  you  most  there?" 

"O,  I  don't  know.  There  are  so  many  interesting  things: 
the  Cross  of  Palenque,  the  hideous  God  of  War,  the  Goddess 
of  Water,  and  the  Stone  of  Sacrifice.  I  think  I  like  best  the 
things  up-stairs  that  are  not  so  ugly:  all  those  beautiful 
things  from  the  sea,  and  the  birds,  the  Quetzal  and  the  Bird 
of  Paradise,  especially,  and,  well,  the  mastodon  and  the  teeth 
of  the  prehistoric  man." 

"Yes,  for  beauty,  give  me  the  last,  certainly,"  said  Maxi- 
miliana,  who  was  in  fine  spirits.  She  was  generally  in  a  gay 
humor  when  she  was  with  Mercedes.  She  had  been  de- 
lighted to  meet  her  in  the  Portales  on  the  Plaza  de  Armas 
only  a  week  or  two  after  the  arrival  of  Don  Francisco's 
family  in  Mexico.  She  had  lived  in  Salta  and  had  known 
Mercedes  in  the  latter's  less  fortunate  days,  and  now  was 
glad  to  see  the  improvement  in  her.  She  herself  had  mar- 
ried a  printer  three  or  four  years  before  and  come  to  Mexico 
to  live.  She  had  no  children,  and  as  she  lived  with  her 
mother-in-law  she  was  free  from  household  cares.  Her  fre- 
quent visits  with  Mercedes,  after  the  latter's  lessons  were 
over,  to  interesting  places  in  the  city  made  a  pleasant  variety 
in  her  life. 

"You  saw  the  State  carriage  of  the  Grand  Duke  Maxi- 
milian? That  and  some  large  vases  in  the  Academia,  which 
he  brought  from  Austria,  and  some  other  little  curiosities  are 
about  all  the  royalty  we  have  left  us,"  she  continued,  scorn- 
fully, for,  notwithstanding  her  royal  name,  Maximiliana  Valle 
was  a  staunch  Republican. 

"Well,  that  is  enough,"  replied  Mercedes,  who  was  not  a 
whit  behind  her  friend  in  Republican  sentiments.  "We  don't 
mind  those  things.  They  make  a  place  more  interesting; 


MAGDALENA. 


SOME  NEW  FACES.  185 

and  one  can  bear  royalty  very  well  when  it  is  shut  up  in  a 
museum." 

"Let's  go  into  the  Cathedral  a  little  while,"  said  Maxi- 
miliana  as  they  approached  that  fine  old  building.  "I  want 
to  show  you  the  'black  saint. '  He  is  the  special  patron  of 
discontented  wives.  If  a  wife  wants  her  husband  to  die  she 
measures  him  carefully  with  a  ribbon  while  he  is  asleep,  and 
then  she  takes  the  ribbon  and  hangs  it  on  the  arms  of  the 
saiat,  and  presently  the  husband  dies.  That  is  some  of  the 
doings  of  this  precious  Roman  Catholic  Church  you  are  so 
devoted  to,  Mercedes." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  there  are  women  who  do  that?" 

"You  shall  see.  The  saint's  arms  are  extended  this  way, 
and  they  are  full  of  ribbons. " 

They  passed  the  statue  at  one  of  the  side  entrances  of  the 
cathedral  yard,  and  went  up  the  walk  between  the  beds  of 
flowers  till  they  were  in  front  of  the  door  of  the  chapel  of  the 
black  saint.  They  would  have  entered,  but  Mercedes  turned 
a  ghastly  face  to  her  friend  and,  grasping  her. arm,  detained 
her.  She  had  taken  in  the  whole  scene  at  a  glance.  There 
at  the  side  of  the  room  on  a  pedestal  was  the  black  image. 
It  was  a  very  good  representation  of  a  negro  boy  of  about 
twelve  years  of  age.  On  his  extended  arms  the  long,  slender 
ribbons  were  heaped  up. 

But  this  was  not  what  had  driven  the  color  from  her  face. 
In  front  of  the  image  knelt  a  lady  in  a  plain  but  elegant  black 
dress,  with  a  black  lace  mantilla  pinned  over  her  waving 
brown  hair.  Her  eyes  were  uplifted  to  the  face  of  the  saint, 
and  her  hands  were  clasped  in  supplication.  It  was  Dona 
Flavia.  In  the  doorway  leading  into  the  nave  of  the  cathe- 
dral stood  Don  Francisco  with  staring  eyes  and  pallid  face. 
The  pallor  of  his  countenance  was  in  strange  contrast  with 
the  exquisite  colors  of  the  costly  flowers  he  held  in  his  hand. 
Mercedes'  eyes  met  his  for  an  instant,  and  then  recovering 
herself  she  hastily  drew  her  companion  from  the  door  and 
they  left  the  cathedral  yard. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter?"  exclaimed  Maximiliana,  who 


186  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

liad  not  expected  Mercedes  to  be  so  much  effected.  "Did 
you  know  that  lady?  What  makes  you  look  so?" 

"O,  I  can't  talk  about  it.  It  is  so  dreadful,  so  dreadful!  It 
seems  like  murder!" 

"Well,  I  should  think  it  did!  But  such  things  have  the 
approbation  of  the  Holy  Apostolic  Roman  Catholic  Church, " 
replied  Maximiliana,  forgetting  the  kneeling  lady,  but  set- 
tling it  in  her  mind  that  her  friend  from  Salta  was  a  very 
susceptible  girl  indeed,  and  not  very  well  acquainted  with 
the  character  of  the  Church.  She  was  the  more  determined 
to  enlighten  her,  for  Mercedes'  devotion  to  the  Church  was 
a,  great  defect  in  her  eyes. 

But  for  the  present,  as  they  went  on  down  the  street,  she 
set  herself  to  divert  her  friend's  mind  by  calling  her  attention 
to  the  handsome  things  in  the  show  windows. 

"Look  what  pretty  hats,  Mercedes.  The  merchants  say 
they  can  scarcely  sell  any  parasols  now  since  the  Mexican 
ladies  have  taken  to  wearing  hats.  Look!  here  in  this  win- 
dow are  Ponciano  Diaz's  costumes  and  the  banderillas.  I 
wonder  if  he  is  going  to  fight.  Those  things  are  always  dis- 
played in  the  windows  before  he  fights.  There  is  a  female 
torrera  in  Spain  who  they  say  has  promised  to  visit  Mexico. 
She  will  a  create  a  sensation  when  she  comes."  Then  wjth 
more  energy  than  ever,  and  almost  in  a  whisper: 

"Look!  look!  do  look,  in  that  carriage!  That  is  the  arch- 
bishop's niece  who  lives  with  him  in  his  palace.  Isn't  she 
magnificent!  Let  everybody  bow  down!!" 

"The  Archbishop's  niece!"  exclaimed  Mercedes,  aroused  at 
last,  and  letting  her  mind  slip  back  into  its  former  habits  of 
thought,  as  she  grasped  the  idea  of  a  woman's  living  in  the 
presence  of  so  much  holiness. 

"Yes;  she  astonishes  everybody  with  her  splendor  when 
she  goes  out. " 

"The  Archbishop  is  a  good  man,  isn't  he?"  asked  Mercedes, 
thinking  of  the  charities  of  Bartolome"  de  las  Casas. 

"Well,  I  should  think  not,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  tone  of  dis- 


SOME  NEW  FACES.  187 

dain.  "He  was  a  traitor  to  his  country;  how  could  he  be  a 
good  man?" 

"How  was  he  a  traitor  to  his  country?"  asked  Mercedes  in 
a  faint  voice,  seized  by  her  habitual  feeling  when  she  had  to 
listen  to  things  against  the  Church  that  the  ground  was 
slipping  from  under  her  feet. 

"He  invited  the  French  to  invade  Mexico." 

"Is  that  true?" 

"It  is  a  historical  fact,"  replied  her  companion,  greatly 
enjoying  the  situation.  '  'O  Mercedes,  you  would  give  up  all 
belief  in  the  superstitions  of  the  Church  if  you  had  a  husband 
to  tell  you  what  its  character  really  was." 

'  'I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  should.  I  know  a  good  many 
ladies  who  have  husbands,  and  yet  they  have  not  lost  respect 
for  the  Church.  I  am  astonished  that  you  have  so  little 
reverence,  Maximiliana.  I  should  think  you  would  be  afraid 
to  talk  so,"  replied  Mercedes,  with  warmth. 

'  'I  ought  to  have  reverence  for  these  things  as  the  priests 
have,  I  suppose.  Like  Father  Sultano,  for  instance.  He  is 
a  priest  in  one  of  the  finest  churches  in  the  city.  He  became 
•disgusted  because  the  ladies  went  to  early  mass  with  their 
bangs  on  crimping  pins,  and  he  resolved  to  teach  them  a 
lesson;  so  he  took  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  rolled  up  her  hair 
in  the  same  way,  and  when  the  ladies  came  he  called  their 
attention  to  her,  and  asked  them  how  they  thought  she 
looked  in  the  church  with  her  hair  on  crimping  pins.  They 
were  horrified,  but  he  told  them  that  they  desecrated  the 
church  in  the  same  way.  He  liked  female  beauty  himself, 
you  know.  But,"  and  her  tone  changed  into  one  of  pure 
amusement,  "General  Fulano  de  Tal  happened  to  go  into  the 
church  and  he  saw  the  image;  and  he  took  that  priest  aside 
and  he  told  him  if  he  di'dn't  take  down  the  Virgin's  hair  and 
fix  her  up  in  a  style  suitable  for  the  church  he  would  report 
him,  and  the  priest  made  haste  to  obey  his  orders.  Now 
-what  do  you  think  of  that?" 

'  'That  shows  that  the  priest  did  hav^ — did  have — 


188  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"That  shows  that  he  did  have  respect  for  the  church, 
doesn't  it?  and  apparently  more  for  the  temple  than  for 
the  idol." 

' 'Maximiliana,  one  would  think  you  were  a  Protestant!" 
burst  out  Mercedes,  conscious  that  she  was  getting  the  worst 
of  the  argument. 

"No,  Sefiora,"  replied  her  companion,  a  little  nettled, 
"I'm  not  a  Protestant;  neither  am  I  a  Catholic.  I'm  a  Free- 
thinker. Tomas  is  a  Freethinker,  and  he  knows  what  is 
right,  for  he  has  read  a  great  many  books.  He  says  that 
Roman  Catholicism  is  a  collection  of  degrading  lies  and  super- 
stitions; and  he  says  that  we  ought  to  be  willing  to  examine 
all  religions  without  prejudice.  That  is  what  a  Freethinker 
believes.  But  I  don't  believe  I  should  be  a  Catholic  if  I 
didn't  have  Tomas  to  tell  me  things,  for  I  know  some  things  by 
myself.  But,"  she  added  after  a  long  silence,  "I  don't  mean 
to  hurt  your  feelings  by  telling  you  all  this,  Mercedes. " 

'  'No,  of  course  I  know  that,  Maximiliana.  We  are  too  good 
friends  to  quarrel.  I  get  so  mixed  up  in  my  mind  about  these 
things  that  I  don't  know  what  is  right  nor  what  is  wrong.  I 
feel  like  I  can't  do  without  some  religion,  but,  of  course,  we 
don't  want  to  be  Protestants.  It's  awful  to  think  of  it!" 

"If  they  were  right  I  suppose  we  should  want  to  be  with 
them,  shouldn't  we?  Of  course,  though,  I  don't  say  they  are 
right." 

Mercedes  made  no  reply.  She  could  not  say  she  should 
want  to  be  with  those  "pietists,"  even  if  she  knew  they  were 
right.  And  there  was  the  aperture  through  which  the 
"strong  delusion"  might  enter. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  entered  a  street  car,  and  soon 
they  stood  before  Mercedes'  home.  She  waited  a  few  minutes 
till  Maximiliana  took  a  passing  car  to  return  home;  then  she 
entered  the  house. 

As  Mercedes  went  up  the  stairway  Magdalena  swept  down 
it  in  an  evening  dress.  When  she  saw  Mercedes  she  ex- 
claimed, '  'Mercedes,*  where  is  mama  ?  Why,  are  you  sick, 


SOME  NEW  FACES.  189 

Mercedes,  or  just  tired?  You  must  have  walked  too  much. 
See  how  pretty  my  dress  is!  I  have  been  trying  on  new 
dresses  all  the  afternoon,  and  looking  at  them  in  my  glass, 
and  I  thought  I'd  go  down  and  see  myself  in  the  glass  in  the 
parlor.  "Won't  this  be  lovely  with  my  new  opera  cloak.  Papa 
promised  to  take  me  to  a  concert  this  evening,"  and  away  she 
wrent  down  the  steps  and  into  the  parlor,  a  very  vision  of 
loveliness;  and  Mercedes  escaped  into  her  own  room. 


190  MEKCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    GROTESQUE    OBJECT. 

HE  grasped  his  hat  and  book  more  tightly  and  left  the 
galleries.  The  thoughtless  words  of  the  girl  had  cut 
to  the  quick,  for  though  he  was  little  accustomed  to  gentle 
speech,  he  had  never  become  insensible  to  cutting  expres- 
sions; and  it*was  very  hard  to  be  spoken  of  as  a  ridiculous 
object  in  the  presence  of  that  other  girl  who  had  just  looked 
at  him  as  if  there  might  be  some  fellowship  of  soul,  at  least, 
between  them.  But  fortunately  he  had  seen  the  look  of  indig- 
nation which  Mercedes  had  flashed  at  the  girl.  After  all 
there  was  more  of  sweetness  than  of  bitterness  in  the  occur- 
rence. He  lifted  his  old  hab  and  slipped  his  hand,  drawn 
somewhat  by  the  constant  handling  of  rough  and  heavy 
things,  over  his  forehead  and  said,  almost  aloud:  "The  Lord 
is  very  good  to  me.  He  has  always  given  me  so  much 
encouragement. " 

Every  one  who  has  been  in  the  City  of  Mexico  has  noticed 
in  the  streets  certain  living  creatures,  which  indeed  he  will 
have  no  trouble  in  recognizing  as  women,  notwithstanding 
their  disguises.  The  heads,  arms  and  feet  are  bare.  A  piece 
of  straight,  dark,  woolen  cloth  with  horizontal  stripes  ex- 
tends a  little  below  their  knees,  and  is  bound  about  the  waist 
with  a  string,  all  the  superfluous  fullness  being  gathered  in 
front,  because  of  the  superior  facility  in  the  art  of  dressing 
themselves  which  this  arrangement  affords.  Another  straight 
piece  of  woolen  cloth,  about  a  foot  in  width  and  reaching  to 
the  waist  before  and  behind,  covers  the  body,  the  head  being 
passed  through  a  slit  in  the  middle  of  it. 

The  coarse  black  hair  hangs  in  tags ;  the  skin  is  brown,  the 
features  of  the  Indian  type.  Notwithstanding  the  conspicu- 
ous poverty  of  a  woman  of  this  class  she  often  displays  on 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  191 

her  fingers  and  in  her  ears  not  a  little  copper  or  brass  jewelry, 
the  touching  reminder  that  there  still  exists  in  the  degraded 
body  a  woman's  soul. 

She  goes  about  the  streets  often  bowed  double  under  an 
immense  load.  Often  an  infant  is  strapped  to  her  back,  but 
if  she  needs  to  carry  a  load  of  another  kind  on  her  back  this 
small  burden  is  shifted  to  the  front.  If  she  has  another  child 
who  can  bear  the  weight  of  the  baby  it  is,  of  course,  strapped 
to  his  back. 

The  men  of  the  same  class  are  not  so  curious  looking. 
They  wear  pantaloons,  shirts  and  sandals;  and  as  they  go 
they  make  the  air  hideous  with  the  crying  of  their  goods,  as 
they  seek  purchasers  for  their  fruits,  toys,  earthenware  or 
kitchen  utensils;  or  they  go  bowed  under  heavy  jars  of  water, 
which  are  held  on  their  backs  by  a  strap  or  bandage  of  cloth, 
which  passes  across  the  forehead. 

Those  of  whom  I  write  you  are  the  native  Mexicans,  or  as 
they  are  called,  the  Indians,  to  distinguish  them  from  the 
mixed  race — those  of  Indian  and  Spanish  blood  who  are 
known  as  Mexicans.  The  former  class  are  also  called  Aztecs, 
though  it  is  probable  that  many  of  them  are  descendants  of 
the  more  cultivated  Toltecs,  and  of  other  tribes  and  nations. 

It  is  estimated  that  more  than  one-half  of  the  population 
of  the  Republic  are  pure  Indians.  They  speak  Spanish  as 
well  as  their  native  tongues,  except  in  remote  districts  where 
they  have  not  come  into  frequent  contact  with  the  ruling 
class,  that  is  the  mixed  race,  and  the  comparatively  few 
foreigners  who  take  part  in  the  government. 

Some  of  these  Indians  of  pure  blood  have  risen  to  distinc- 
tion. Benito  Juarez,  so  often  referred  to  in  this  story,  a 
statesman  of  whom,  no  doubt,  any  nation  would  be  proud. 
was  an  Indian  of  pure  blood.  So  was  the  great  scholar, 
Ramirez,  and  the  distinguished  savant,  statesman  and  orator, 
Altamirano,  was  an  Indian  of  full  blood,  or  as  he  would  have 
said,  a  Mexican.  He  was  a  gifted  writer. 

The  nationality  of  those  who  win  renown,  as  well  as  of  all 
others,  is  disguised  now  under  Spanish  names.  When  the 


192  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

Spanish  priests  were  converting  and  baptizing  the  Mexican 
Indians  at  the  rate  of  hundreds  a  day  they  gave  them  what 
they  called  Christian  names,  that  is,  Spanish  surnames  cou- 
pled with  "given"  names  generally  taken  from  the  Bible  or 
from  the  list  of  "saints." 

Did  you  ever  think  how  strange  it  would  be  if  a  foreign 
enemy  from — you  knew  not  where — appearing  suddenly  as  if 
they  had  dropped  from  the  sky — should  disembark  on  your 
shores,  and  sweep  over  your  land  like  a  besom  of  destruction; 
should  make  of  your  merchant  princes  and  of  your  great  men 
beasts*  of  burden  to  carry  mortar  and  stones  to  build  again 
the  cities  they  had  destroyed;  should  send  off  ship  loads  of 
you  and  sell  you  as  slaves;  and  at  the  same  time  should  bap- 
tize you  by  the  hundreds  in  the  name  of  a  God  of  peace  and 
good  will,  calling  the  Smiths,  Cuitlahua;  the  Jones,  Maxix- 
catzin;  the  Browns,  Nezahualpilli;  and  should  require  you 
to  speak  a  language  in  which  there  was  not  a  word  of  Saxon 
<or  Latin?  That  would  be  like  what  the  Spaniards  did  in 
Mexico. 

Because  of  these  changes  of  the  names  there  is  danger  of 
.attributing  all  there  is  worthy  of  notice  to  the  Spaniards,  or 
at  least  to  those  in  whose  veins  there  is  a  good  deal  of 
Spanish  blood,  overlooking  the  fact  that  history  proves  that 
Indian  intellect  and  courage  and  prudence  have  been  the 
principal  factors  in  making  Mexico  what  she  is;  for  was  not 
Juarez  an  Indian? 

The  fate  of  the  Indians  in  Mexico  was  not  similar  to  that 
of  the  Indians  in  the  United  States.  There  they  retreated 
through  the  shadows  of  the  forest  toward  the  far  West, 
melting  away  before  the  white  man.  Here  they  remained, 
and  they  and  the  mixed  race,  which  has  sprung  from  them 
and  the  Spaniards,  are  the  people  whom  you  call  "the 
Mexicans. " 

But  for  this  change  of  names  in  the  baptism  of  the  Indians, 
the  young  man  who  has  just  come  out  of  the  Academia  de 
San  Carlos  and  gone  on  up  the  street  would  have  to  be  pre- 
sented to  you  by  some  such  name  as  Axayacatl,  or  Xolotl,  or 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  193 

\ 

Ixtlilxochitl.  But,  thanks  to  the  "holy  Fathers,"  he  was 
called  Teodoro  Martinez. 

One  fine  summer  morning,  about  twenty-two  years  before 
the  time  of  which  I  write,  two  ladies,  in  black  dresses  and 
Spanish  mantillas,  and  carrying  missals  and  rosaries,  came 
out  of  the  church  of  St.  Hipolito  and  turned  up  the  street  to 
go  to  their  homes.  They  were  on  one  of  the  bloodiest  battle- 
fields of  Mexico,  as  they  might  have  been  reminded  if  they 
had  looked  up  at  the  molded  arms  and  martial  figure  on  the 
stone  pillar  on  the  corner  of  the  high  wall  of  the  churchyard. 
It  was  along  here,  then  a  lake  filled  with  islands,  united  by 
bridges,  that  the  Spaniards  under  Cortez  retreated  from 
Tenoctitlan,  now  called  the  City  of  Mexico,  followed  by  the 
Indians,  fighting  in  the  darkness  like  demons  of  vengeance. 

Sometimes  when  one  passes  along  there  all  the  busy  life  of 
the  street,  the  rattling  of  street  cars,  and  the  crying  of 
hucksters,  dies  away,  and  one  hears  in  its  stead  the  clash  of 
arms,  the  panting  of  pursued  and  pursuer,  the  splashing 
of  the  water  as  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and  wounded  fall  into 
it,  the  groans,  the  cries,  the  shouts— all  the  sickening  terror 
of  that  Sad  Night. 

A  few  blocks  farther  on  up  the  street  is  a  tiny  yard  full  of 
grass  and  flowers  and  vines.  This  is  the  place  of  Alvarado's 
Leap;  and  farther  on,  perhaps  two  miles  out  of  the  city,  is 
the  Tree  of  the  Sad  Night,  under  which  Cortez  wept  over  the 
destruction  of  his  army. 

So  it  was  historic  ground;  but  these  good  ladies,  having 
known  all  this  from  their  childhood,  thought  nothing  of  it, 
but  being  come  out  of  the  church  and  turned  to  go  up  the 
street  they  lifted  up  their  eyes  and  beheld  a  sight  which 
made  them  look  at  each  other  and  smile  for  pure  and  un- 
selfish pleasure  as  well  as  through  amusement;  and  then 
they  looked  about  them  involuntarily  to  see  if  there  was  any 
one  else  near  to  enjoy  it.  Their  eyes  met  those  of  two  men 
who  stood  at  the  door  of  a  little  pawn  shop,  and  they,  too, 
were  smiling,  for  they  had  seen  the  sight;  and  they  had 
looked  about  them  for  the  same  reason. 

13 


194  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

* 

Then  the  ladies,  ashamed  that  they  had  been  betrayed  into 
looking  and  smiling  in  the  street  at  men  whom  they  did  not 
know,  put  on  demure  countenances  and  went  on  their  way  a 
little  more  rapidly. 

Down  the  middle  of  the  street  in  the  broad  light  of  the  day 
came  two  Indians,  descendants,  probably  of  those  very  Aztecs 
who  on  the  Sad  Night  had  pursued  the  flying  ancestors  of  these 
two  ladies.  One  of  them  was  a  young  man  in  shirt,  pantaloons 
and  sandals;  the  other  was  a  barefooted  girl  in  a  very  ragged 
dress,  her  bare  shoulders  and  arms  partly  covered  by  a  cot- 
ton scarf.  Each  held  the  hand  of  the  other;  they  were  not 
walking  nor  running;  they  appeared  to  glide  on  the  air;  they 
saw  nothing,  heard  nothing,  knew  nothing  but  that  each 
loved  the  other  and  that  they  were  near  each  other.  Some- 
where up  the  street  they  had  encountered  each  other,  their 
hands  had  touched,  their  eyes  had  met,  and  the  story  was  told. 
Then  the  strength  of  the  love  that  was  in  them  had  impelled 
them  to  motion,  it  mattered  not  whither,  and  with  clasped 
hands,  swinging  them  like  children,  they  started  down  the 
street.  Seeing  them  one  hoped  they  would  soon  reach  a 
secluded  corner  in  a  tenement  house,  or  some  deserted  alley, 
where  he  might  put  back  her  stringy  black  hair  and  kiss  her. 

I  have  never  obtained  any  reliable  information  on  that 
point;  but  a  few  days  later  the  happy  couple  took  up  their 
abode  hi  a  little,  dirty,  smoky  hut  on  a  vacant  lot.  No  mar- 
riage ceremony  had  intervened.  They  were  not  averse  to 
marriage;  on  the  contrary,  they  would  have  been  married  if 
they  could  have  paid  for  the  Church  marriage,  but  that  was, 
of  course,  impossible;  they  would  willingly  have  been  mar- 
ried by  the  civil  law  but  for  the  fact  that  the  Fathers,  who 
ministered  at  the  altars  and  held  the  fate  of  their  souls  in 
their  hands,  taught  the  people  that  that  was  not  marriage, 
that  those  who  were  guilty  of  such  blasphemy  against  the 
Church  were  excluded  from  her  fold  and  hence  lost  all  hope 
of  salvation. 

A  little  more  than  a  year  later,  if  Our  ladies  of  the  mantillas 
had  passed  along  a  street  near  the  one  in  which  they  first 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  195 

saw  the  enamored  pair,  they  might  have  seen  them  again. 
She  stood  by  a  wall  with  a  tiny  baby  bound  on  her  back  with 
a  cotton  scarf.  She  was  saying,  in  a  high,  hysterical  voice: 

"O,  if  you  just  wouldn't  turn  me  into  the  street!  if  you 
would  give  me  somewhere  to  live,  just  any  hut!" 

He,  having  the  policeman  in  his  mind,  replied  in  a  low 
tone,  though  angrily.  And  so  the  voices  continued  to  alter- 
nate for  some  time. 

What  was  the  matter?  Nothing.  Perhaps  he  was  tired  of 
her;  perhaps  he  had  seen  another  girl  whom  he  liked  better. 
He  had  not  distinctly  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  her;  he  even 
yielded  to  her  entreaties  to  the  extent  of  providing  her  a  hut 
a  week  or  two  longer  till  the  owner  of  the  lot  turned  her  out. 
Then,  after  she  had  drifted  into  one  of  the  great  tenement 
houses,  he  went  there  to  share  with  her  her  small  earnings 
gained  by  selling  vegetables  in  the  streets — went  there  to 
drink  and  sleep  and  curse  and  fight,  accomplishments  in 
which  she  soon  became  scarcely  less  proficient  than  he. 

This  first  baby  of  her  own  that  she  ever  bore  on  her  back 
was  our  acquaintance  of  the  galleries,  Teodoro  Martinez. 
In  a  drunken  carousel  they  had  raffled  for  the  name  of  the 
infant  as  it  lay  crying  on  the  floor. 

As  soon  as  he  was  large  enough  to  lift  its  weight  the  least 
of  the  succeeding  babies  was  bound  on  him  and  only  at  sho'rt 
intervals  during  the  day  was  he  free  to  straighten  his  tired 
little  back  without  that  load.  How  it  happened  that  he  grew 
to  be  a  straight,  tall  youth,  I  cannot  tell. 

His  young  life  was  not,  however,  destitute  of  pleasures. 
He  was  not  always  hungry;  the  baby  sometimes  went  to 
sleep  when  he  was  in  the  house  and  then  he  could  lie  on  the 
floor  and  ''  think,"  for  he  had  that  strange  propensity;  and 
sometimes  he  could  slip  out  to  the  street  and  see  the  car- 
riages pass  and  the  people  go  by.  Once  his  adventurous  dis- 
position led  him  on  a  feast  day,  being  lured  by  the  music  of 
the  band,  to  venture  a  little  way  into  the  Alameda.  There 
he  saw  the  great  central  fountain  covered  with  flowers, 
arranged  in  exquisite  designs,  and  the  ladies  in  such  pretty 
dressed  that  they  looked  liked  so  many  "Blessed  Virgins. " 


196  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

His  mother  took  him  once  to  the  Floating  Gardens,  whither 
she  went  for  vegetables  to  sell,  returning  in  the  early,  chilly 
morning,  that  the  vegetables  might  be  fresh  and  tempting. 
He  went  with  the  baby  on  his  back,  and  leading  the  child 
next  to. himself,  while  the  third  one  was  bound  on  his 
mother's  back.  It  may  seem  that  it  was  pleasure  taken  under 
difficulties,  but  to  him  it  was  an  occasion  fraught  with  de- 
light. And  with  good  reason,  for  he  breathed  the  pure, 
sweet  air,  he  saw  the  canal  and  the  skiffs  and  flatboats  with 
their  coverings  of  canes  and  grass  to  protect  the  pas- 
sengers from  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun;  and  he  saw  the  gar- 
dens, so  green,  "so  joyful,"  with  many  colored  flowers.  He 
saw,  too,  in  the  distance,  the  great  snow-covered  mountains, 
Ixtacihuatl  and  Popocatepetl,  whose  names  were  not  in  the 
least  difficult  for  him  to  pronounce,  for  he  spoke  the  language 
to  which  they  belonged  even  better  than  he  spoke  the  Cas- 
tilian  language. 

*  On  one  occasion  his  mother  took  him  away  out  beyond  Ta- 
buca  to  see  the  Christ  crucified.  His  pleasure  in  this  perform- 
ance was  somewhat  marred  through  the  fear  that  they  might 
kill  the  man  who  acted  as  Christ,  and  also  by  the  drinking, 
cursing  and  fighting  of  the  spectators;  for  though  he  was 
familiar  with  such  behavior  in  his  own  home  he  never  lost 
his  horror  of  it.  As  many  of  the  people  were  crowned  with 
flowers,  he  might  have  been  reminded  of  a  feast  of  Bacchus, 
if  he  had  been  acquainted  with  Grecian  mythology  in  those 
days.  But  this  day's  pleasure  came  near  ending  tragically 
for  him;  for,  as  his  mother  was  one  of  those  who  exercised 
herself  most  in  wailing  and  wringing  her  hands,  he  came 
near  being  trampled  to  death  in  the  crowd;  later  she  became 
intoxicated,  and  she  would  have  left  him,  but  that  he  reso- 
lutely clung  to  her  skirt — that  woolen  skirt  with  the  hori- 
zontal stripes,  which  I  have  already  described. 

He  had  one  pleasure,  however,  in  which  there  was  no  mix- 
ture of  pain.  For  it  he  was  indebted  to  a  woman  named  Lupe 
Rodriguez  who  lived  in  the  same  tenement  house.  She 
sometimes  gave  him  calahasa  (pieces  of  pumpkin  cooked  with 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  197 

syrup).  He  never  failed  to  slip  out  and  give  the  greater  part 
of  it  to  his  younger  brothers  and  sisters,  over  which  wretched, 
neglected  little  mortals  his  heart  yearned  with  an  old,  pitiful, 
fatherly  yearning;  but  the  little  piece,  that  remained  was 
sweeter- for  this  self-denial. 

Lupe  lived  in  a  little  room  just  back  of  one  of  the  front 
rooms  in  one  of  those  great  "whited  sepulchers"  of  tenement 
houses  in  the  City  of  Mexico.  These  houses  look  well  enough 
from  the  street,  and  they  are  often  on  good  streets.  Glancing 
up,  as  you  pass  along,  at  the  large  windows  of  the  house, 
noticing  the  lace  or  some  other  thin  material  drawn  closely 
over  the  glass  of  the  shutters  you  think  it  is  the  residence  of 
some  family  in  good  circumstances.  It  would  never  occur  to 
you  that  they  were  the  only  comfortable  rooms  in  the  house. 
It  would  never  occur  to  you  that  back  of  them,  often  extend- 
ing over  the  whole  immense  square,  is  a  labyrinth  of  little, 
windowless  rooms,  whose  only  light  and  ventilation  is  re- 
ceived from  a  door  which  opens  on  a  tiny  patio,  a  space  a  few 
yards  square,,  open  to  the  heavens.  Two  or  three  families 
often  live  in  one  of  these  little  rooms.  They  have  little  or  no 
furniture;  all  they  ask  for  is  space  to  stretch  themselves  out 
at  night.  Along  with  these  facts,  take  into  consideration  the 
unneat  habits  of  most  of  the  tenants,  and  you  will  not  be 
surprised  to  hear'that  they  are  the  perpetual  haunt  of  fevers 
and  smallpox. 

The  rent  is  as  high  as  can  be  wrung  from  such  people — 
"very  high,"  they  will  always  tell  you.  The  landlords,  of 
course,  grow  very  rich;  they  may  be  seen  sweeping  out  over 
the  drive  in  handsome  carriages,  or  flashing  their  diamond 
rings  over  the  gaming  tables  in  Baden-Baden,  or  diverting 
themselves  in  Paris, — along  with  many  of  the  owners  of  the 
great  haciendas — thoughtless  of  the  miserable  thousands  who 
in  the  morning  swarm  out  of  their  great  tenement  houses 
and  crowd  in  again  at  nigh,t. 

Sometimes  respectable  families,  being  unable  to  pay  rent 
in  better  houses,  are  obliged  to  live  in  these  tenement  houses, 
and  their  souls  are  much  vexed  by  the  character  and  conduct 
of  the  other  inmates. 


198  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Lupe  lived  near  the  front;  Teodoro  lived  far  back  in  the 
hive.  If  he  had  known  about  such  things,  he  would  have 
thought  of  those  front  rooms  as  the  abode  of  royalty,  and  of 
Lupe's  room  as  that  of  the  highest  nobility.  He  always 
passed  very  slowly  by  those  front  rooms  and  turned  his 
head  as  long  as  he  could  see  anything  of  the  magnificence 
within,  a  circumstance  which  was  very  annoying  to  the 
inmates.  If  he  could  only  have  stepped  in  and  taken  a  good, 
long  look  at  the  cheap  and  scanty  furniture  it  might  have 
satisfied  him. 

Lupe's  room  differed  from  the  one  in  which  Teodoro  lived 
principally  in  that  she  had  a  bed  and  a  chair  and  a  table,  and 
that  everything  was  exquisitely  clean.  She  sometimes  in- 
vited Teodoro  to  enter,  and  talked  with  him.  She  was  a 
queer  woman,  they  said.  She  spent  a  great  deal  of  time, 
when  she  was  not  making  cravats  to  sell,  reading  in  a  broad, 
thin  book.  She  read  some  to  Teodoro  in  that  book  one  day, 
and  one  story  pleased  him  very  much.  It  was  about  a  little 
man  who,*  on  one  occasion,  when  the  Lord  was  passing 
through  the  streets  of  a  city  with  a  great  crowd  of  people, 
ran  ahead  and  climbed  up  into  a  sycamore  tree  to  see  him. 
Lupe  told  him  it  was  the  story  of  Zaccheus,  the  shoemaker. 

As  he  manifested  a  great  curiosity  about  the  letters  she 
taught  him  to  read;  and  all  the  time  she  was  teaching  him 
something  better  than  that;  and  the  result  was  that  one  day 
as  he  trudged  along  the  street  with  a  heavy  jar  of  water, 
praying  to  "the  invisible  God  who  is  everywhere,"  he  came 
to  feel  that  he  would  be  willing  to  give  up  everything  in  the 
world,  if  everything  were  his,  if  only  he  could  feel  that  his 
sins  were  pardoned,  and  that  the  Lord  looked  upon  him  with 
favor;  and  just  then  the  grievous  burden  of  sins  rolled  oif  his 
conscience,  and  first  peace,  and  then  great  joy,  flooded  his 
soul. 

Soon  after  that  Lupe,  as  if  her  mission  in  that  house  was 
accomplished,  went  to  another,  and  Teodoro  saw  her  no 
more;  but  we  may  hope  that  the  blessing  of  God  followed  her, 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  199 

and  that  she  continued  to  "evangelize"  till  the  time  came  for 
her  to  enter  the  shining  portals  of  the  celestial  city. 

Before  she  left  she  gave  him  a  New  Testament  which  he 
read  a  great  deal  in  his  loneliness  after  her  departure. 
Away  back  in  the  dim  days  of  his  childhood  a  realization  of 
the  degradation  of  his  family  and  surroundings  had  fastened 
itself  on  him.  It  had  grown  on  him  till  it  almost  over- 
whelmed him  at  times.  He  compared  himself  and  them 
with  many  people  whom  he  saw  in  the  streets — people  with 
gentle  manners  and  in  good  clothes.  But  there  had  now 
taken  possession  of  his  mind  the  thrilling,  inspiring,  uplifting 
thought  that  God  was  no  respecter  of  persons.  And  there 
grew  up  in  his  soul  a  wish,  a  purpose,  to  make  of  himself 
such  a  man  that  the  others  of  the  tenement  house  would  treat 
his  words  with  respect  and  attention  when  he  told  them  oi 
the  great  salvation. 

He  sometimes  did  errands  for  the  Director  of  a  college. 
Many  weeks  of  this  thinking  and  planning  at  last  gave  him 
the  courage  to  ask  this  gentleman  '  'if  he  didn't  know  no  way 
in  which  a  fellow  who  had  no  money  nor  nothing  could  get 
an  education. "  The  Director  looked  him  over  with  attention 
and  said,  "We  will  see."  The  result  of  the  "seeing"  was, 
that  clothed  in  the  cast-off  garments  of  one  of  the  Director's 
sons,  and  provided  with  work  by  which  he  might  pay  for 
them,  he  entered  a  common  school.  A  year  afterward  he 
entered  the  school  of  his  patron. 

Five  years  had  passed  and  he  had  diplomas  for  all  or 
nearly  all  the  branches  studied  by  young  men,  diplomas  duly 
signed  by  the  President  of  the  Republic,  Don  Porfirio  Diaz. 
They  had  been  hard  years;  he  scarcely  knew  how  he  had 
gotten  through  them.  He  had  often  been  hungry  and  always 
poorly  clad.  He  had  studied  his  lessons  in  minutes  of  leisure, 
and  in  the  streets  as  he  went  about  his  work,  often  with  a 
burden  on  his  back  and  a  book  in  his  hand.  He  did  as  well, 
and  sometimes  surpassed  in  his  studies,  the  wealthy  young 
gentlemen  of  his  classes  who  studied  walking  back  and  forth 
in  the  shady  Alameda. 


200  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Partly  as  a  consequence  of  this  they  often  said  cutting 
things  to  him.  '  'Protestant"  and  "Pietist"  were  among  the 
favorite  names  for  him;  and  one  wealthy  young  gentleman 
from  Guadalajara,  the  elegant  Jose  Maria  Ortega,  whom  our 
acquaintance,  the  Senorita  Frederica,  met  during  a  visit  to 
the  Capital,  inquired  frequently,  and  especially  just  after 
having  been  eclipsed  in  Latin  or  Trigonometry  by  Teodoro, 
after  the  health  of  his  mother,  using  the  most  elegant  for- 
mula, "How  is  the  Sefiora,  madre  de  Usted  "  (how  is  the  sefiora, 
mother  of  your  Worship)  ? 

This  lady  was  known  to  them,  for  she  had  insisted,  in  all 
innocence,  be  it  said,  on  selling  her  vegetables  in  a  street 
near  the  college  so  that  her  son  could  carry  them  for  her  to 
the  place  where  she  wished  to  dispose  of  them. 

During  all  this  time  the  good  Director  had  stood  by  him. 
He  once  or  twice  spoke  of  him  to  the  whole  college  as  a  per- 
son whose  industry  and  good  behavior  were  worthy  of  imita- 
tion. He  did  so  one  day  when  finding  Teodoro's  deskmate 
drunk  on  pulque  and  asleep  at  his  desk  he  waked  him  and 
sent  him  home,  summarily  expelled  from  school,  remarking 
to  that  youth  as  he  took  up  his  books  to  leave  that  this  was 
"a  school  for  boys  and  not  for  brutes." 

But  notwithstanding  the  kindness  of  the  Director  there 
came  very  dark  days  to  our  hero,  through  this  subtle  influ- 
ence which  emanates  from  the  opinions  of  others  and  per- 
vades our  lives,  days  when  he  could  not  shake  off  the  para- 
lyzing thought  that  his  race  was  generally  considered  infe- 
rior, nor  the  more  depressing  thought  of  the  shameful 
degradation  of  his  family. 

When  the  thought  of  his  race  attacked  him  he  always  went 
to  the  Pantheon  of  the  church  of  St.  Fernando.  At  first  the 
sexton,  seeing  what  a  shabbily  dressed  youth  it  was  who  was 
peering  through  the  iron  gate  would  not  admit  him,  but  on 
subsequent  visits,  noticing  his  quiet  and  respectful  deport- 
ment and  the  fact  that  he  generally  carried  a  book  in  his 
hand,  he  permitted  him  to  pass  the  gateway.  He  then  stood 
in  a  small,  rectangular  inclosure  surrounded  by  four  walls 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  201 

the  height  of  an  ordinary  room.  Three  of  these  walls  are 
divided  into  compartments,  just  large  enough  for  a  coffin  to 
be  slipped  in  endwise.  After  the  coffin  is  inserted  the  com- 
partment is  closed  with  a  marble  slab  on  which  is  an  inscrip- 
tion. On  one  side  is  a  room  opening  from  the  Pantheon  in 
which  are  kept  the  funeral  urns.  After  the  expiration  of  the 
term  for  which  the  compartment  for  the  coffin  was  rented, 
the  ashes  are  taken  from  the  coffin  by  the  family  or  an  agent 
and  placed  in  an  urn  which  is  kept  in  this  room. 

In  the  ground  of  the  Pantheon  are  buried  some  of  Mexico's 
most  distinguished  men.  But  only  one  of  these  monuments 
attracted  Teodoro:  that  of  Juarez. 

It  is  a  severely  simple  and  elegant  structure  of  stone,  about 
eleven  yards  long  by  six  and  a  half  yards  wide.  There  are 
no  walls;  the  roof  is  supported  by  columns.  On  the  outside 
above  the  entrance  is  a  wreath  of  artificial  flowers  bearing 
the  inscription  ''Honor  to  Juarez."  Above  this,  in  another 
and  an  immense  wreath  supported  by  the  Masonic  insignia, 
is  the  celebrated  maxim  of  the  great  statesman:  "Respect  for 
the  rights  of  others  ensures  peace."  Within,  thickly  cover- 
ing the  walls  and  floors  are  many  wreaths  so  that  if  one  is  so 
fortunate  as  to  be  admitted  at  all  he  must  step  very  care- 
fully. There  are  large  and  small  wreaths  of  artificial  flowers 
made  of  glass  beads,  and  even  some  small  ones  of  silver  and 
gold.  They  have  been  presented  by  every  State  in  the  Re- 
public and  by  the  Spanish  and  French  Societies.  The  flow- 
ers of  these  wreaths  are  of  the  most  exquisite  colors  and  are 
artistically  arranged. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  beauty,  carved  in  pure  white  Italian 
marble,  is  the  representation  of  the  body  of  the  statesman  at 
the  moment  when  the  spirit  left  it.  The  strong  arm  has 
fallen  by  his  side,  the  head  is  thrown  back;  there  is  the  Indian 
face,  the  features  so  familiar  to  every  Mexican.  At  his  pillow 
sits  the  bereaved  nation,  la,  Patria,  her  young  and  beautiful 
face  turned  heavenward  as  if  she  cried  after  him,  '  'My  father, 
my  father,  the  chariot  of  Mexico  and  the  horsemen  thereof. " 

Below  the  monument  lie  the  ashes  of  the  hero,  the  states- 


202  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

man,  so  honored  by  all  the  States,  the  Indian  of  pure  blood, 
Juarez. 1 

The  boy  was  accustomed  to  gaze  at  it  awhile  in  silence  and 
then  go  away  calmer  in  spirit,  more  patient,  more  hopeful, 
stronger  than  when  he  came. 

When  the  thought  of  the  degradation  of  the  family  to  which 
he  belonged  oppressed  him  he  went  to  the  church  of  Santo 
Domingo,  the  church  of  the  Inquisition.  On  one  side  and 
across  the  street  from  it  and  the  little  garden  in  front  of  it, 
rises  the  handsome  building  in  which  was  held  the  Court  of 
the  Inquisition.  "Here,"  says  a  Mexican  writer  and  states- 
man, Juan  A.  Mateos,  in  his  novel,  "Sacerdote  y  Caudillo," 
"was  administered  the  torture  which  was  designated  by  the 
palliative  title  of  ordinary  or  extraordinary  torment  accord- 

1Note. — The  stories  which  are  familiarly  told  about  this  great  leader 
are  very  tender  and  beautiful.  One  day,  as  a  Mexican  lady  and  I  stood 
gazing  at  this  exquisite  monument,  which  I  have  tried  to  describe,  she 
said,  her  feelings  causing  her  to  rise  to  pathetic  eloquence:  "When  he 
lay  in  state  in  the  Palacio  National  the  deep  and  solemn  sound  of  the 
cannon  resounded  every  five  minutes  through  the  saddened  city.  All 
the  soldiers  were  in  mourning,  and  often  one  saw  the  tears  in  their  eyes. 
A  high  civil  officer  and  a  high  military  officer  stood  at  each  end  and  at 
each  side  of  the  bier  on  which  he  lay:  they  were  motionless  as  statues 
of  sadness." 

Then,  again,  this  reminiscence:  "I  saw  him  once  when  I  was  a  little 
child.  He  was  passing  along  the  street  in  his  carriage,  and  I  was  play- 
ing before  the  door.  I  began  to  jump  about  for  joy  and  cry  out,  'Mama, 
mama,  here  comes  Don  Benito  Juarez!'  He  heard  me,  and  he  had  the 
carriage  stopped,  and  he  spoke  to  me  very  affectionately.  He  was  so 
good!"  she  concluded.  She  related,  too,  that  at  a  breakfast,  given  to 
some  of  his  soldiers,  one  of  them  approached  him  and  said,  "My  Presi- 
dent, will  you  permit  me  to  embrace  you?"  And  he,  opening  his  arms, 
exclaimed,  "My  beloved  sons,  I  wish  to  give  you  not  one  embrace,  but  a 
thousand." 

The  familiar  and  favorite  and  most  affectionate  way  of  speaking  of  him 
was,  and  is  yet,  as  "El  Indio , Juarez,"  "The  Indian  Juarez." 

Among  the  other  distinguished  Mexicans,  who  were  Indians  of  pure 
blood,  I  will  mention  only  a  few:  Altamirano,  an  author  and  a  minister 
to  foreign  courts;  Ramirez,  a  very  learned  man;  Du  Blan,  Secretary  of 
Finance;  General  Juan  N.  Mendez,  several  times  Governor  of  Puebla; 
the  son  of  this  General,  who  was  also  Governor  of  Puebla;  Juan  Alverez, 
President  of  Mexico. 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  203 

ing  to  the  means  more  or  .Less  active  which  were  used  in 
it  ....  In  the  hall  were  the  necessary  implements  for  the 
fearful  ceremony:  tongs  to  tear  off  the  flesh,  iron  gauntlets 
to  put  on  the  hands  of  the  condemned,  after  having  heated 
them  redhot  in  the  fire,  ingenious  apparatuses  to  make  them 
imbibe  cold  or  hot  water,  and  even  melted  lead;  cords,  in- 
struments, buskins  for  the  horse,  and  another  multitude  of 
apparatuses  in  which  the  invention  and  genius  of  hell  left 
nothing  to  be  desired. " 

Sometimes  Teodoro  stood  awhile  in  the  little  garden  by  the 
fountain  which  marks  the  spot  where  the  wandering  Aztecs 
saw  the  eagle  perched  on  a  cactus  with  a  serpent  in  its  talons, 
which,  as  the  god  had  foretold,  was  to  be  a  sign  to  them  where 
they  were  to  build  their  city, — stood  and  gazed  on  the  build- 
ing where  was  held  formerly  the  Court  of  the  Inquisition,  in 
which  now,  having  been  confiscated  to  the  State,  is  the 
National  Medical  College.  Sometimes  he  entered  the  church 
to  impress  more  deeply  on  his  mind  the  thought  of  the  In- 
quisition, and  sitting  down,  gazed  at  the  harmonious  and 
softly  glowing  colors  of  the  gilded  pillars  of  the  altar  and 
listened  at  the  sweet  notes  of  the  pipe  organ  which  was  away 
off  and  up  somewhere  in*  a  loft;  or  looked  pityingly  at  the 
kneeling  worshippers  muttering  their  prayers,  or  with  scorn 
scarcely  concealed  at  the  coarse  images,  such  as  that  of  the 
life-size  body  of  Christ  "laid  out,"  and  the  Virgin  standing  at 
the  head  in  a  black  dress  of  modern  cut  weeping  with  a  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes. 

What  was  there  in  the  thought  of  the  Inquisition  that  was 
to  some  extent  a  compensation  to  this  young  man  for  the  bad 
blood  in  his  veins?  It  was  this:  When  his  father  was  drink- 
ing and  unusually  talkative  with  the  neighbors  he  often 
alluded  to  the  disgraceful  fact  that  his  father's  grandfather 
had  been  tortured  by,  the  Inquisition  for  heresy.  He  was 
fond  of  describing  how  his  limbs  were  stretched  on  the  rack 
and  twisted  joint  from  joint,  how  the  bones  cracked,  how  he 
shrieked  and  shrieked,  till  there  was  no  more  strength  left  in 
him  to  shriek,  and  then  his  cries  died  away  into  moans, 


204  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

fainter  and  fainter,  till  at  last  there  was  nothing  left  to  the 
"holy  fathers"  but  his  mutilated  body. 

Teodoro  had  reasons  of  his  own  for  desiring  to  know  more 
about  this;  and  once  he  ventured  to  ask.  But  the  only  reply 
he  received  was  a  blow  and  the  assurance  that  his  ancestor 
was  "just  like  himself  and  Lupe  Rodriguez."  So  he  was  at 
liberty  to  hope  that  there  had  been  at  least  one  among  his 
ancestors  who  had  been  a  believer  in  Christ,  one  who  belonged 
to  the  nobility  of  heaven. 

Though  there  was  in  his  mind  an  abiding  sense  of  the 
degradation  of  his  family  it  was  only  occasionally  that  it 
overwhelmed  him.  He  was  usually  cheerful  and  hopeful, 
enjoying  greatly  his  studies  and  the  intercourse  with  the 
other  young  men  of  the  college.  He  had  never  left  his 
father's  family;  in  their  continual  drifting  from  one  house  to 
another  he  went  with  them.  The  Director  of  the  college  had 
advised  him  to  leave  them  but  he  had  refused.  He  had 
always  felt  that  he  was  one  of  them;  he  must  stay  with  them 
and  share  whatever  fate  was  theirs;  and  above  all  else  he 
feared  that  if  he  left  them  he  might  lose  some  opportunity  to 
rescue  some  of  them.  He  especially  longed  to  save  his 
younger  brothers  and  sisters  frdm  being  mere  bearers  of 
burdens  in  the  streets. 

But  he  was  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  he  could  never 
do  so  by  staying  with  them;  perhaps  if  he  could  leave  them 
and  get  a  place  where  he  could  earn  more  he  could  make  a 
sort  of  home  for  them — gfet  some  better  rooms  in  a  more  re- 
spectable tenement  house  and  induce  them  to  come  to  him. 
Then  he  might  teach  them  in  the  evenings. 

He  was  thinking  of  this  as  he  went  along  the  street  from 
the  Academia  de  San  Carlos  to  the  Cathedral.  That  look  of 
sympathy  from  Mercedes  had  made  him  think  more  strongly 
of  it  than  ever.  He  felt  sure  that  sh$  would  encourage  him, 
that  she  would  think  of  the  plan  just  as  he  did  if  she  knew 
about  it. 

Just  then  he  was  employed  to  sell  second-hand  books  in 
one  of  the  stands  back  of  the  Cathedral.  He  liked  it  because 


THE  GROTESQUE  OBJECT.  205 

there  was  leisure  to  read  and  plenty  of  books  at  hand,  but  the 
pay  was  very  little.     He  must  try  to  find  something  else. 

When  he  reached  his  stand  he  thanked  his  neighbor  of  the 
next  one  for  having  kept  an  eye  on  his  books  during  his 
short  absence,  and  slipping  Luis  de  Granada's  Guia  de  Peca- 
dores  (Guide  for  Sinners)  into  its  place  on  the  shelf  he  sat 
down  to  think. 


206  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  DRIVE   TO   CHAPULTEPEC. 

0N  the  day  of  Mercedes'  visit  to  the  art  galleries  Don  Fran- 
cisco, having  finished  his  business  for  the  day  in  the 
Palacio  National,  came  across  the  street  to  the  Cathedral. 
He  was  looking  more  cheerful  than  when  we  saw  him  last. 
Since  their  arrival  in  Mexico  Dofia  Flavia  had  said  no  more 
about  Masonry,  and  Don  Francisco  hoped  that  her  opposition 
to  him  on  that  subject  and  perhaps  on  some  others  was  grow- 
ing less.  He  felt  greatly  relieved  about  his  daughter,  also,^ 
for  he  certainly  did  not  discover  in  Magdalena  any  inclina- 
tion to  take  the  veil.  So  it  happened  that  it  was  with  very 
cheerful  feelings  indeed  he  crossed  the  street  to  the  Cathe- 
dral that  afternoon. 

He  would  have  taken  a  street  car  for  his  home,  but  he  saw 
Dofia  Flavia's  carriage  in  front  of  the  Cathedral,  and  though 
he  had  not  troubled  her  much  with  his  society  for  the  last 
,few  weeks,  knowing  that  it  was  not  agreeable  to  her,  he  felt 
this  afternoon  that  he  might  safely  allow  himself  the  pleas- 
ure of  driving  home  with  her. 

Before  entering  he  passed  around  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  building  and  bought  a  bouquet  of  exquisite  flowers  for 
her,  and,  as  a  second  thought,  another  for  Magdalena, 
remembering  that  she  might  like  them  to  carry  to  the  con- 
cert. He  did  not  at  first  discover  Dofia  Flavia  among  the 
worshippers  kneeling  before  the  various  altars  and  images, 
but  presently  as  he  wandered  about  in  search  of  her,  he  saw 
her  in  a  kneeling  posture  before  the  images  of  the  Father, 
Son  and  Holy  Ghost.  She  arose  directly  and  after  dropping 
three  pieces  of  money  into  the  contribution  box  which  sat  in 
front  of  the  images,  glided  off  to  another  part  of  the  building. 


A  DRIVE  TO  CHAPULTEPEC.  207 

Don  Francisco  followed  thinking  he  would  sit  down  near 
her  so  as  not  to  lose  her  in  the  crowd  and  wait  till  she  'had 
finished  her  devotions.  She  passed  into  the  chapel  of  the 
"black  saint,"  and  frozen  with  horror,  he  saw  her  hang  a 
ribbon  across  his  arms,  and  kneeling  before  the  image,  begin 
to  repeat  prayers  with  unusual  fervency  even  for  her.  Not 
even  the  appearance  of  Mercedes  at  the  other  door  aroused 
him  sufficiently  to  move  away. 

Presently  Dona  Flavia  arose  and  turned  to  leave,  and  hus- 
band and  wife  stood  face  to  face,  and  looked  each  into  the 
eyes  of  the  other.  Then  with  a  sudden  movement  as  if  she 
were  shaking  off  a  paralysis  she  swept  by  him  into  the  nave 
of  the  Cathedral.  On  she  went,  not  rapidly,  but  steadily, 
past  the  Altar  of  the  Three  Kings,  past  the  chapels,  among 
altars  and  images  and  kneeling  worshippers  and  deformed 
beggars  at  the  door,  through  the  garden  with  its  flowers  and 
ruins  of  the  Aztec  temple,  till  she  reached  her  carriage  and 
entered  it.  The  maid  servant,  who  aH  the  time  her  mistress 
was  engaged  within,  had  waited,  sitting  near  the  door — after 
having  repeated  a  few  Pater  Nosters  and  Ave  Marias  for  her 
own  soul's  comfort — followed  her  mistress  into  the  vehicle. 
Dona  Flavia  gave  some  direction,  she  never  knew  what,  to 
her  coachman. 

She  must  have  told  him  to  drive  to  Chapultepec,  for  thither 
he  drove.  The  carriage  went  flashing  along  among  the. 
others  which  vied  with  it  hi  speed  in  San  Francisco  street, 
then  swept  out  into  the  broad  drive  toward  the  setting  sun; 
on  and  on  into  that  cloud  of  golden  dust  which  looked  as  if 
the  celestial  city  were  there  and  all  those  swiftly  moving, 
dimly  seen  chariots  were  rushing  into  it  under  its  uplifted 
gates.  On  past  the  statue  of  Charles  IV.,  sweeping  around 
the  lofty  statues  of  Gautemozin  and  Columbus,  darting  past 
those  of  the  Mexican  heroes  on  either  side,  past  the  moss- 
covered  ruins  of  the  aqueduct,  and  into  the  Woods  of  Cha- 
pultepec, drove  that  coachman  as  if  he  were  fleeing  from  an 
evil  conscience,  or  were  trying  to  save  his  mistress.  But 
none  of  these  objects  I  have  mentioned  flew  by  his  carriage 


208  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

faster  than  by  the  others.  It  is  a  way  they  have  in  the  City 
of  Mexico — that  rapid  driving. 

They  passed  the  caged  animals ^ near  the  gate,  then  Monte- 
zurna's  Tree  and  Bath,  the  statues  of  Apollo  and  Venus,  the 
monument  to  the  youthful  defenders  of  the  Castle  during  the 
''Mexican  War,''  and  the  Castle  perched  high  up  on  the  hill, 
and  plunged  into  the  dim,  enchanted  woods. 

Dona  Plavia  was  conscious  of  nothing  till  the  carriage 
turned  to  go  home.  She  must  go,  there  was  no  escape  from 
it,  but  who  should  defend  her  from  the  wrath  of  her  husband! 
"God  help  me!"  she  exclaimed;  and  then  to  the  servant's 
surprised  question,  "What  is  it,  Sefiora?"  she  replied,  "Noth- 
ing," and  held  her  silken  fan  more  closely  before  her  face. 
Her  progress  toward  vengeance  was  as  swift  as  her  flight 
from  an  evil  conscience. 

It  was  dusk  when  the  carriage  stopped  at  her  home.  Don 
Francisco  came  out,  opened  the  door,  and  assisting  her  to 
alight,  drew  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  led  her  into  the  house, 
and  up  the  stairs  to  her  own  room.  He  could  not  have  been 
more  gentle  and  courteous  if  she  had  been  his  bride  of 
yesterday. 

He  shut  the  door  and  turned  the  key  in  it  that  there  might 
be  no  interruption  from  the  children,  and  then  again  they 
stood  face  to  face  and  each  looked  into  the  eyes  of  the  other. 
Dona  Flavia  clutched  the  back  of  a  chair  with  her  gloved 
hand  to  keep  herself  from  sinking  on  the  floor.  During  her 
drive  she  had  been  seeing  as  if  by  successive  flashes  of  light- 
ning how  her  deed  would  look  to  her  husband,  to  his  friends, 
even  to  some  of  her  friends,  to  the  world  in  general.  For 
though  that  proceeding  had  the  sanction  of  the  Holy  Apostolic 
Church,  and  she  knew  that  she  should  have  the  approbation 
of  the  priests  and  the  sympathy  of  many  of  her  lady  friends, 
who  would  not  fail  to  observe  pityingly :  *  'Poor  Flavia  Salizar ! 
to  such  a  strait  as  she  is  reduced  in  her  efforts  to  save  her 
children  from  her  husband's  influence!  such  a  good  woman, 
too,  and  so  devoted  to  the  church! "  though  she  had  seen  it  in 
this  light  only  before  she  met  her  husband's  eyes  in  the 
chapel,  since  then  it  had  looked  somewhat  different. 


A  DRIVE  TO  CHAPULTEPEC.  209 

She  was  a  woman  of  the  world,  a  proud  and  gracious  figure 
in  the  highest  society;  she  knew  that  she  was  to  a  great  de- 
gree indebted  to  her  husband's  popularity  for  this  enviable 
position;  she  could  not  be  indifferent  to  the  fact  that  if-  his 
friends  should  come  to  know  of  this  insult  to  him  she  should 
bocome  to  them  an  object  of  contempt,  tolerated  only  for  his 
sake.  And  her  husband!  she  had  found  that  she  cared  more 
for  his  regard  than  she  had  thought  she  did.  Then,  as  if  by 
another  lurid  flash,  she  saw  the  probability  that  he  might 
divorce  her  now,  and  so  she  should  lose  everything — respect, 
her  children  and  all. 

There  was  no  relenting  in  that  stern,  handsome  face  at 
wliich  she  gazed  as  by  a  terrible  fascination,  in  those  eyes  that 
sr-emed  to  be  scorching  her  soul  as  if  he  read  every  thought 
in  it.  Oh,  if  she  could  only  sink  down  on  the  floor  and  cover 
her  face  from  his  sight! 

"Flavia."  he  said  slowly,  at  last  breaking  the  dreadful 
silence.  "I  have  little  to  say  to  you.  I  have  learned  the 
uselessness  of  using  reason  to  a  woman  who  is  led  blindfold 
by  unscrupulous  priests.  They  and  your  own  superstition 
have  brought  you  to  the  verge  of  the  commission  of  a  crime, 
to  the  actual  commission  of  it  in  your  soul.  It  is  likely  that 
they  will  lead  you  further.  There  is  only  one  step  more 
to  the  actual  perpetration  of  the  deed;  the  priests  would  ab- 
solve you;  the  history  of  the  priesthood  is  full  of  such  as 
that. — your  superstitious  soul  could  easily  be  persuaded  that 
you  were  doing  God  service.  You  are  in  a  fair  way  to  bring 
shame  and  ruin  on  yourself  an,d  your  children,  and  all  who 
are  connected  with  you.  I  shall  take  measures  so  that  if  I 
die  suddenly  the  matter  may  be  fully  investigated  and  justice 
done  to  the  guilty  parties.  That  is  all  I  have  to  say  to  you. 
You  are  not  the  woman  I  thought  you  were. " 

He  looked  at  her,  it  seemed  to  her,  a  full  minute  longer, 
and  then  went  out  and  shut  the  door  after  him. 

With  a  low  cry  she  sank  on  the  floor.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  she  was  dying.  She  half  hoped  that  she  jvas.  Her  soul 
cried  out  against  his  injustice.  She  had  never  thought  of 
14 


210  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

that  other.  She  had  only  tried  to  free  her  children  from  his 
influence  by  supernatural  intervention.  If  God  should  per- 
mit the  "saint"  to  remove  him,  would  it  not  be  right?  "What 
God  did  not  permit  the  saints  could  not  do."  She  should 
never  have  thought  of  the  other;  she,  Flavia  Salizar!  to  be 
spoken  to  about  a  crime !  To  be  spoken  to  as  a  criminal !  In 
her  humiliation  she  wished  she  could  sink  out  of  sight  for- 
ever. He  was  unjust,  he  was  cruel,  mean!  But — and  there 
was  another  flash  of  lightning — it  was  no  wonder  he  thought 
of  it  in  that  way.  Suppose  she  knew  that  he  had,  when  she 
was  sleeping  her  peaceful  siesta,  measured  her  exactly  and 
had  carried  the  ribbon  as  an  offering  to  a  saint,  praying  for 
her  death!  It  would  have  been  a  relief  to  her  if  she  could 
have  shrieked. 

"You  are  not  the  woman  I  thought  you  were;"  those  words 
burned  themselves  into  her  soul.  "That  means  he  would 
never  have  married  me  if  he  had  thought  I  was  capable  of 
this.  Oh,  Flavia  Salizar,  what  have  you  come  to!" 

A  great  wave  of  hatred  toward  the  priests  swept  over  her 
soul  as  she  remembered  how  they  had  led  her  on,  telling  her 
that  any  means  were  justifiable  that  might  be  necessary  to 
keep  her  boys  in  the  fold  of  the  Church.  Even  the  good,  the 
elegant  bishop  had  told  her  that.  It  seemed  to  her  in  that 
awful  moment  that  a  veil  slipped  off  him,  and  she  saw  him  as 
he  really  was,  a  monster  of  iniquity,  a  smiling  hypocrite. 
*  And  she  should  have  to  confess  all  this  to  him,  she  should 
be  risking  her  soul  if  she  kept  back  anything !  He  would  give 
her  absolution  and  his  hearty  approval,  she  knew;  but  she 
would  rather  die  than  tell  it  to  any  one;  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  absolution  from  such  a  man,  an  accomplice  in  crime, 
would  only  increase  her  guilt. 

Lower  and  lower  she  sank  in  the  slough  of  humiliation. 
Let  us  go  out  and  leave  her.  But  one  word  before  we  leave 
her,  ladies.  Lest  we  judge  this  woman  too  harshly  let  this 
reflection  occupy  our  minds:  "Who  has  made  us  to  differ 
from  another,  and  what  have  we  that  we  have  not  received?" 

Suppose  that  we  had  inherited  Roman  Catholicism  from 


A  DRIVE  TO  CHAPULTEPEC.  211 

generations  of  ancestors;  suppose  we  had  never  known  any- 
thing else;  suppose  we  had  lived  under  the  daily  influence 
and  claims  of  priests  whose  powers  and  claims  we  had  no 
means  of  disproving;  can  we  be  sure  that  we  should  have 
been  better  or  clearer-minded  women  than  she?  Which  of  us 
is  endowed  with  a  nobler,  more  generous  character  than 
Isabella  of  Castile?  And  yet,  influenced  by  her  confessor, 
she  banished  the  Jews  from  her  dominions,  and  introduced 
the  Inquisition  into  Spain. 

Don  Francisco  took  Magdalena  to  the  concert  that  evening. 
He  felt  that  there  was  strength  enough  in  him  to  do  anything 
that  evening,  to  go  to  any  theater  or  ball,  to  make  the  greatest 
speech  of  his  life  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  to  denounce 
the  Pope  to  his  face  as  "the  man  of  sin  and  the  son  of  perdi- 
tion," as  the  Protestants  called  him — to  do  anything!  You 
would  have  thought  so  if  you  had  seen  him  enter  the  National 
Theater,  with  his  head  proudly  uplifted,  his  eyes  shining, 
bowing  and  smiling  to  acquaintances,  showing  every  grace- 
ful attention  to  the  beautiful,  happy  girl  on  his  arm  in  deli- 
cate evening  dress  and  white  opera  cloak.  He  was  very 
proud  of  her,  very  happy  to  have  her  by  his  side.  '  'I  am  not 
dead  yet,"  he  said  to  himself,  lifting  his  head  a  little  higher, 
as  he  listened  to  her  pretty  prattle  and  watched  the  fluttering 
of  her  pink  fan.  She  carried  no  flowers:  her  father  had 
thrown  them  away. 

Did  he  think  of  his  wife,  as  she  cowered  before  him?  If  he 
did,  it  was  to  say  to  himself:  "Let  her  suffer.  She  deserves 
it.  It  may  do  her  good. " 


212  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CHRISTMAS. 

5 

IT  was  the  evening  of  Christmas  Day.  In  Don  Francisco  s 
brightly  lighted  dining  room  a  large  party  of  children 
and  young  people  were  assembled,  and  among  them  were 
about  two  dozen  people  of  middle  age. 

The  whole  city  was  keeping  Christmas.  But  there  had 
been  no  giving  of  gifts,  no  making  of  Christmas  trees,  no 
hanging  up  of  stockings  in  joyful  anticipation  of  the  coming 
of  Santa  Claus  or  St.  Nicolas.  If  you  mention  them  to  a 
Mexican  and  explain  to  him  that  they  give  gifts  to  the  chil- 
dren, and  ask  if  the  custom  is  the  same  here,  he  will  reply 
in  a  vague  way:  "No;  I  don't  know  who  you  mean,  unless  it  is 
the  Holy  Child;  the  pastores  (shepherds)  give  gifts  to  him." 

These  saints  are  worshipped  here,  but  not  in  connection 
with  Christmas. 

For  nine  nights,  that  is  from  the  16th  to  the  25th,  there 
had  been  in  the  churches  representations  of  Bethlehem,  with 
Mary,  Joseph,  and  the  Babe;  and  there  had  been  processions, 
carrying  the  images  of  these  personages  from  one  part  of  the 
church  to  anotlier  and  asking  for  lodging  for  them.  This 
had  been  a  favorite  play  in  the  private  houses,  also.  The 
procession,  bearing  the  images  before  them,  had  gone  from 
one  room  to  another,  or  from  one  suite  of  rooms  to»another, 
if  more  than  one  family  lived  in  the  same  house.  Some  of 
the  inmates,  to  carry  out  the  play,  refuse  them  admittance, 
telling  them  there  is  no  room  for  them  in  the  inn.  But  happy 
the  family  which  at  last  receives  them,  for  presently  will 
come  along  the  gay  pastores  (a  band  of  boys  who  at  this  sea- 
son go  about  the  streets  singing  and  shaking  their  decorated 
staffs)  and  they  will  stop  where  they  find  the  image  and  sing 


CHRISTMAS.  21 

and  recite  poems,  going  through  a  simple  theatrical  perform- 
ance in  honor  of  the  Savior's  birth;  and  they  will  present 
gifts  to  the  Holy  Child. 

Now  and  then  a  man  makes  a  vow  that  if  he  succeeds  in 
this  or  that  undertaking  he  will  devote  so  much  money  to  the 
training  of  pastores  and  to  the  buying  of  presents  for  the  Holy 
Child,  or  it  may  be  that  he  has  committed  a  sin  and  he  does 
this  by  way  of  expiation. 

The  evening  before  Christmas  there  was  a  gathering  of 
friends  at  Don  Francisco's  house.  They  had  dropped  in 
after  supper  to  wait  with  them  for  the  midnight  mass  (the 
Misa  del  Gallo,  the  Mass  of  the  Cock).  They  had  amused 
themselves  with  music  and  conversation,  and  the  young  peo- 
ple with  games,  had  eaten  the  Christmas  supper  of  bunuelos 
(a  kind  of  cake)  and  syrup,  and  when  the  bells  began  to  ring 
at  twelve  o'clock  they  had  gone  to  church  and  heard  high 
mass  till  daylight.  Then,  the  25th  being  a  fast  day,  this 
good  Catholic  family  had  kept  it  as  such. 

A  fast  day  in  a  Roman  Catholic  family  reminds  one  of  Mark 
Twain's  description  of  a  French  duel.  There  are  so  many 
dispensations  that  the  result  is  that  everybody  eats  as 
much  as  he  wants.  If  one  does  not  feel  well  he  can  eat  of 
forbidden  dishes;  children  can,  because  they  are  growing  and 
need  the  food;  those  who  work  can,  because  they  could  not 
work  if  they  did  not  eat. 

This  good  family,  therefore,  having  ostensibly  done  with- 
out breakfast,  according  to  the  manner  prescribed  for  keep- 
ing the  fast,  had  partaken  of  an  elegant  dinner,  then  they 
had  fasted  till  supper  time,  unless  the  dispensations  were  in 
their  favor  and  permitted  them  the  merienda. 

But  now  the  terrible  fast  was  over,  and  to-night,  as  last 
night,  there  was  a  gay  gathering  in  Don  Francisco's  dining 
room.  Those  who  came  early,  they  being  for  the,  most  part 
elderly  people,  had  supped  with  them,  the  remainder  of  the 
company  had  come  in  after  supper.  The  festivities  in  which 
they  had  been  invited  to  take  part  were  more  suitable  for  the 
dining  room  than  for  the  parlor.  The  table  had  been  re- 


214  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO 

moved  and  extra  seats  had  been  brought  in  and  placed  around 
the  walls. 

Through  the  wide  doorway,  leading  into  an  adjoining 
room,  was  discovered  a  gay  and  beautiful  scene.  Every 
visitor,  after  the  usual  salutations,  passed  into  this  room.  It 
was  illuminated  by  a  hanging  lamp,  whose  prisms  sparkled 
and  threw  back  many  colored  lights.  The  gay  flowers  of  the 
carpet  seemed  to  laugh  in  one's  face  for  very  joy.  Around 
three  sides  of  the  room  had  been  constructed  a  sort  of  coun- 
ter of  two  steps,  and  on  these  and  on  the  walls  above  them 
evergreens  were  skillfully  arranged.  Among  these  gleamed 
all  sorts  of  toys  so  disposed  as  to  represent  various  phases  of 
life.  There  were  country  houses,  with  their  trees,  gardens, 
fowls,  horses,  cattle,  and  servants  engaged  in  their  occupa- 
tions; the  families  of  little  people  were  there  also;  there 
were  lakes,  made  of  glass,  with  swans  and  ducks,  and  fishes 
in  them;  there  were  forests,  with  animals  in  the  shade  of 
the  trees,  and  bright  birds,  some  of  them  singing  birds,  in 
the  boughs;  there  were  towns  with  coaches  and  carriages  and 
railway  trains;  there  were  processions  of  pilgrims;  there 
was,  of  course,  hi  the  place  of  honor,  the  Virgin,  on  a  don- 
key, with  the  Holy  Child  in  her  arms,  and  Joseph  by  her 
side;  just  below  these  were  two  large  and  beautiful  French 
dolls,  one  of  them  a  lady  in  a  bright  ball  dress,  who  fanned 
and  raised  a  bouquet  to  her  nose,  the  other,  a  gaily  dressed 
man  who  played  the  violin  and  "really  made  music."  There 
were,  in  short,  toys  of  all  kinds;  there  were  vases  and  pic- 
tures— everything  that  could  make  it  bewildering  bright 
and  pretty.  It  was  a  children's  paradise — this  nacimiento 
made  in  honor  of  the  birth  of  the  Holy  Child. 

Magdalena  and  Mercedes  had  been  very. busy  making  it, 
and  even  Dofia  Flavia  had  been  less  sad  in  seeing  the  happi- 
ness of  her  children;  and  the  children  had  said  that  there 
was  nothing  like  the  making  of  a  nacimiento  to  cure  mama's 
headaches.  And  they  were  still  happier  now,  to-night,  since 
papa  could  be  with  them,  for  during  the  last  week  his  busi- 
ness had  been  so  pressing  that  he  had  had  to  go  out  early 


CHRISTMAS.  215 

and  return  late,  dining  at  a  restaurant,  and  "had  scarcely 
seen  poor  mama,  though  she  had  not  been  well." 

Don  Francisco's- "business,"  however,  had  permitted  him 
to  be  with  his  friends  last  evening.  He  had  accompanied 
them  to  the  church,  walking  with  some  of  the  gentlemen,  and 
leaving  Dona  Flavia  to  the  company  of  the  ladies.  As  they 
were  to  go  to  their  respective  homes  at  the  close  of  the  mass 
he  soon  slipped  out  and  returned  home,  leaving  his  wife  to 
return  with  Magdalena  and  Mercedes. 

One  who  knew  all  the  circumstances  would  have  thought 
this  Christmas  evening  that  he  was  trying  to  impress  Dofia 
Flavia,  as  she  sat  among  the  other  ladies,  that  he  "was  not 
dead  yet;"  he  was  so  gay,  so  genial,  so  courteous,  the  master 
of  ceremonies  for  the  children,  the  very  life  of  the  party. 
That  thought  did  occur  to  him  sometimes.  He  had  not  re- 
lented much  towards  his  wife  during  this  week  that  had 
passed  since  their  encounter  in  the  chapel.  He  had  not, 
however,  spoken  to  any  confidential  friend  with  respect  to  a 
possible  sudden  departure  from  life  on  his  part,  placing  him 
under  oath  to  keep  his  shameful  secret. 

He  had  thought  he  was  not  excited  when  he  announced  his 
intention  to  do  so,  but  he  found  afterward  that  he  could  not 
speak  to  any  one  about  so  disgraceful  an  occurrence.  Mer- 
cedes, watching  them  both,  Dona  Flavia  pale  and  quiet,  Don 
Francisco  with,  she  thought,  a  touch  of  defiance  hi  his  good 
humor  toward  all  others,  while  he  left  his  wife  alone,  won- 
dered sadly  what  the  result  would  be.  Would  she  repent? 
and  if  she  did  would  he  forgive  her?  Or  would  she  be  led  on 
to  take  other  steps,  "divorce  or  something, "  to  keep  her  chil- 
dren in  the  church? 

Mercedes  was  by  this  time  so  far  blinded  herself  by  super- 
stition that,  though  she  thought  of  Dofia  Flavia's  deed  with 
horror  and  sometimes  exclaimed  to  herself:  "What  kind  of  a 
woman  is  she?  Who  would  have  thought  she  could  have 
done  such  a  thing!"  she  yet  had  a  good  deal  of  sympathy 
with  her  about  her  children.  There  was  no  salvation  out  of 
the  Church;  were  not  then  almost  any  means  justifiable  in 


216  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

order  that  a  mother  might  keep  her  children  in  the  Church? 
Not  such  means  as  this,  of  course — but  any  lawful  means. 
As  for  this,  the  deliberate  procuring  of  the  death  of  another 
even  in  this  indirect  and  religious  way  was  dreadful;  it  had  a 
hint  of  murder  in  it.  Could  it  be  right?  and  yet  the  church 
sanctioned  it.  Sometimes  she  wondered  as  she  debated  this 
question  if  she  were  going  crazy.  To-night  she  was  making 
a  desperate  effort  to  put  it  out  of  her  mind  and  be  gay  with 
the  rest. 

Don  Francisco  felt  a  new  delight  in  the  society  of  his  chil- 
dren; it  was  a  new  and  exquisite  pleasure  to  him  to  find  him- 
self necessary  to  their  happiness.  He  had  even  gone  with 
his  little  boys  to  help  them  select  the  pinatas  and  candies  for 
this  occasion. 

One  of  these  pinatas  now  hung  from  the  ceiling.  It  was  a 
great  doll,  a  representation  of  a  woman  gaudily  dressed  in 
pink  and  blue  tissue  paper,  with  staring  eyes  and  grinning 
mouth.  The  dress  concealed  a  thin  earthenware  jar,  and  in 
the  jar  was  a  pigeon.  This  emblem  of  innocence  was  placed 
there  "to  make  the  children  innocent."  Each  child  in  turn 
was  blindfolded  and,  after  having  been  led  about  the  room 
till  he  was  confused,  struck  three  times  at  the  pinata  with  a 
long  stick.  The  blundering  efforts  to  strike  it  afforded  great 
amusement  and  were  attended  by  shouts  of  laughter.  At 
last  one  little  fellow  broke  it,  and  the  poor  little  frightened 
pigeon,  with  its  head  sadly  bruised,  fluttered  off  across  the 
floor  toward  the  group  of  ladies.  Dona  Flavia  took  it  up  in 
her  arms  and  caressed  it,  and  presently  sent  it  out  of  the 
room.  Out  there  in  the  dark  it  suffered  alone  and  perhaps 
died,  having  to  the  best  of  its  ability  fulfilled  its  little  mission 
of  "making  the  children  innocent." 

The  succeeding  games,  however,  had  no  such  objectionable 
feature.  Another  gay  and  hideous  pinata  was  hung  up,  this 
time  a  man.  The  jar,  which  his  gaudy  clothing  concealed, 
was  filled  with  candies.  When  the  jar  should  be  broken  and 
the  candies  should  fall  the  children  were  to  scramble  for 
them.  All  the  children  had  in  turn  struck  at  it,  then  the 


CHRISTMAS.  217 

young  ladies  and  young  gentlemen.  At  last  Don  Francisco's 
turn  came  and  it  afforded  great  amusement  to  all  that  he 
should  break  it.  Down  came  the  fragments  of  the  jar  and 
the  candies  were  scattered  on  the  floor.  Don  Francisco 
nimbly  extricated  himself  from  the  crowd  of  children  who 
rushed  about  him  to  snatch  the  candies. 

This  scene  of  gay  confusion  was  at  its  height  when  a  serv- 
ant came  to  Don  Francisco's  side  and  said  to  him  that  a  young 
gentleman  wished  to  speak  to  him. 

"Bring  him  in,''  he  replied,  and  then  forgot  all  about  it  as 
he  watched  the  children. 

The  servant  brought  in  the  young  man  and  left  him  at  his 
master's  side.  Presently  Don  Francisco  turned,  and  seeing 
him  there,  remembered  the  message. 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  abruptly,  and  then  smiling  pleasantly, 
he  extended  his  hand  to  the  young  gentleman.  *  'Excuse  me. 
I  had  forgotten.  They  have  brought  you  into  a  noisy  scene. " 

"A  very  gay  and  pleasant  one,"  was  the  response.  "Per- 
haps, though,  I  should  not  have  called  on  business  this  even- 
ing. As  the  pinatas  have  arrived  before  me  I  will  give  way- 
to  them." 

"O,  no,  that  will  not  be  necessary —that  is,  if  I  can  attend 
to  the  business  here.  I  should  be  sorry  to  leave  my  friends, 
the  pinatas,  unless- the  business  was  very  pressing." 

"It  can  be  easily  attended  to  here,"  replied  the  young  gen- 
man,  producing  a  letter.  "The  director  of  the  college  of 
which  I  am  an  alumnus  gave  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
you.  He  said  he  thought  you  might  need  a  secretary,  and 
that  possibly  I  might  fill  the  place  satisfactorily. " 

Don  Francisco  opened  the  letter  and  read  it.  It  was  from 
his  esteemed  friend,  Don  Eduardo  Recio,  recommending  this 
young  gentleman,  Teodoro  Martinez,  for  the  place  of  sec- 
retary. 

"I  am  grateful  to  my  friend,  Senor  Recio,  for  sending  you 
tome,"  said  Don  Francisco,  with  his  usual  courtesy,  as  he 
folded  up  the  letter.  "We  will  see  about  it;  but  just  now  I 
am  too  much  engaged  in  these  important  matters  to  decide. 


X 

218  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

You  will  remain  awhile,  though,  will  you  not,  and  see  some 
more  of  these  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  demolished?" 

Teodoro  thanked  him  and  accepted  the  invitation.  That 
was  just  what  he  wanted,  as  much,  it  seemed  to  him  just  at 
that  moment,  as  he  wanted  the  place  of  secretary.  His  eyes 
had  been  wandering  hungrily  about  the  room,  trying  to  dis- 
cover Mercedes.  Presently  he  saw  her  standing  in  a  group 
of  girls,  talking. 

"How  strange  it  is,"  he  said  to  himself,  "that  in  a  week 
after  I  first  saw  that  young  lady  I  should  be  standing  here  in 
her  home,  talking  to  her  father!" 

It  had  come  about  in  a  very  simple  way.  The  evening  on 
which  he  saw  Mercedes  he  returned  to  the  bookstand,  as  I 
said,  and  sat  down  to  think.  He  had  been  engaged  in  this 
occupation  about  half  an  hour  when  he  saw  Mercedes  and 
her  companion  hastily  leaving  the  Cathedral.  Now  he  had 
read  some  novels  in  his  life,  and  perhaps  if  he  had  not  had 
that  privilege  something  in  his  southern  blood  would  have 
suggested  to  him  that  he  follow  this  young  lady  who  had  im- 
pressed him.  He  did  so,  keeping  at  a  safe  distance  from 
her,  on  Plateros  street.  When  she  and  Maximiliana  entered 
the  street  car  he  was  near  enough  to  gain  the  platform  just 
as  it  moved  off.  He  saw  the  house  which  Mercedes  entered. 
She  belonged,  he  knew  from  the  handsome  house,  to  a  wealthy 
family.  He  lingered,  walking  up  and  down  the  street  for  a 
little  while,  and  was  rewarded  by  seeing  Don  Francisco 
enter. 

He  remembered  him  as  a  gentleman  whom  he  had  often 
seen  going  in  and  out  of  the  Palacio  National.  The  next  day 
he  inquired  his  name  of  one  of  his  companions  at  the  stands. 

"He?  Why  he  is  the  Sefior  Urbina,  a  Senator  from  one  of 
the  northern  States." 

"Is  he  a  Conservative?" 

"No,  he  is  a  Liberal." 

"Do  you  know  anything  more  about  him?" 

"Why,  yes,  a  little  more.  He  is  as  fierce  against  the 
priests  as  Juarez  himself,  they  say.  He  seconded  heartily 


CHRISTMAS.  219 

the  motion  to  banish  all  the  foreign  priests  from  the  country, 
and  even  gave  some  pretty  strong  hints  that  if  he  had  his 
way  most  all'  of  the  native  ones  would  go  too  or  change  their 
way  of  doing.  He  is  a  strong  man  in  politics  and  very  rich, 
they  tell  me." 

Teodoro  thought  that  he  was  very  fortunate  in  having 
gained  so  much  information  about  *  'her  father. "  He  inferred, 
too,  that  so  sensible  a  girl  as  she  must  be  would  follow  her 
father's  opinion  in  politics  and  religion. 

It  must  be  told  of  him,  for  a  historian  must  relate  the  facts, 
towever  little  they  may  be  to  the  credit  of  his  hero,  that  this 
unantic  youth  had  already,  in  this  one  week,  twice  visited 
Ihe  house  in  San  Cosme  street,  and  stood  for  an  hour  or  two 
ifore  it,  gazing  at  a  window  through  which  he  saw  a  light, 
first  night  he  was  painfully  doubtful  as  to  whose  window 
it  might  be,  but,  the  second,  these  doubts  were  resolved  in 
rhat  was  to  his  mind  the  most  happy  manner:  the  young 
Lady  herself  appeared  at  the  window  between  the  parted 
curtains,  stood  there  a  few  moments,  with  her  face  sharply 
mtlined  against  the  bright  light  behind  her,  and  then  closed 
te  blinds. 

It  was  Dofia  Flavia's  room,  and  Mercedes  was  in  there  re- 
iving some  directions  about  the  next  day's  employment,  or 
the  amusement  for  the  children,  but  our  young  gentleman 
jmained  in  blissful  ignorance  of  that  fact. 
"Am  I  in  love  with  her!"  he  had  soliloquized  fiercely  the 
jond  night  in  the  street,  '  'of  course  I'm  not  in  love  with 
ter.     I  wouldn't  be  such  an  idiot!    What  an  insult  it  would  be 
the  daughter  of  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  city  for  one 
)f  the  Indians  of  the  street  to  fall  in  love  with  her!     I'm 
laking  a  fool  of  myself,  of  course,  but  that  concerns  nobody 
>ut  myself.     There  is  no  law  to  forbid  my  looking  at  the 
Infanta  of  Spain,  or  even  falling  in  love  with  her,  if  I  don't 
let  her  royal  mother  nor  any  of  her  people  know  it. " 

And  so,  secure  in  the  thought  that  none  of  this  young 
Lady's  '  'people"  would  know  of  it  he  was  giving  pretty  free 
)in  to  his  thoughts  about  her.     Yet  he  was  loyal  enough  to 


220  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

sometimes  strive  against  it.  "He  had  no  right  to  be  think- 
ing of  a  wealthy  and  accomplished  young  lady  who  would 
never  think  of  him  except  as  of  one  who  was  to  be  pitied  in  a 
philanthropic  way, "  he  said  to  himself. 

But  thoughts  are  not  easily  controlled  and  he  generally 
concluded  with  the  reflection  that  no  girl  need  be  insulted 
that  a  man  of  pure  morals,  good  education,  and  philanthropic 
ideas  in  his  own  humble  way,  should  choose  to  make  her  an 
object  of  reverence  or  even  of  love  so  long  as  he  did  not 
trouble  her  with  his  foolish  notions.  "He  didn't  intend  to 
sing  any  songs  under  her  window,  nor  recite  any  poems,  nor 
throw  her  any  letters.  He  was  not  Quixotic  enough  for  that, " 
he  said  defiantly. 

But  his  mind  was  principally  occupied  with  another  and 
more  absorbing  subject  in  these  days.  He  must  try  to  make 
a  place  for  his  two  young  sisters  and  induce  them  to  come  to 
him.  If  his  mother  would  only  come  too, — all  of  them — to  a 
more  respectable  place  and  let  him  help  them  to  lead  better 
lives!  But  he  had  no  hope  for  any  of  them  but  the  two  girls, 
and  very  little  for  them.  Nevertheless  he  had  set  his  heart 
on  this  plan.  It  was  his  prayer  night  and  day,  and  there 
was  not  much  of  submission  mingled  with  the  thought  that 
he  might  fail. 

These  other  thoughts  were  only  a  relaxation  from  this 
great  anxiety.  The  thought  of  the  young  lady  was  restful 
because  of  the  belief  that  she  had  sympathy  for  the  poor. 

He  had  made  every  effort  he  could  think  of  to  find  more 
lucrative  employment,  but  without  success.  When  at  last 
he  was  almost  reduced  to  despair  it  had  occurred  to  him  to 
go  to  his  teacher  for  advice.  When  this  gentleman  had  men- 
tioned among  two  or  three  other  suggestions  that  the  Senor 
Urbina  might  want  a  secretary  he  had  immediately  decided 
to  try  that  plan  first.  The  result  was  that  on  Christmas 
evening  he  stood  by  the  side  of  the  Sefior  Urbina  watching 
the  breaking  of  pinatas. 

Now  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  young  man  appeared 
in  Don  Francisco's  dining  room  in  those  clothes  in  which  we 


CHRISTMAS.  221 

• 

saw  him  in  the  art  galleries.  Fortunately  he  had  better 
clothes,  else  how  could  he  have  received  his  diplomas  in  the 
National  Theatre  from  President  Diaz'  own  hand?  That  was 
a  question  that  had  greatly  troubled  the  good  Director  and 
his  amiable  senora  a  few  weeks  before. 

The  Director  had  sometimes  in  his  speeches  in  the  National 
Pedigogical  Congress  when  it  met  in  the  handsome  Iturbide 
Theater,  referred  to  this  young  man,  '  'a  son,  Senores,  of  the 
very  Aztecs  of  the  street,''  as  a  proof  that  this  race  was 
capable  of  the  highest  improvement. 

It  would  have  impressed  the  fact  on  them  more  deeply  if 
he  had  led  his  pupil  out  on  the  platform  before  them  in  the 
costume  which  he  usually  wore  in  the  college,  a  costume 
which  was  very  little  better  than  that  of  the  remainder  of 
the  male  portion  of  his  race,  and  had  required  him  to  show 
off  his  accomplishments  in  the  various  branches;  and  no 
doubt  the  idea  of  the  capacities  of  the  race  would  have  sunk 
still  deeper  into  the  minds  of  the  audience  on  the  day  of  the 
Distribution  of  Premiums  if  he  had  received  his  diplomas 
and  the  medal  or  two  which  were  awarded  to  him  in  that 
garb. 

''But  we  don't  do  things  in  that  picturesque  style  in  these 
last  years  of  the  nineteenth  century,"  replied  the  Senora 
Directora  when  her  husband  had  smilingly  stated  the  advan- 
tages to  be  derived  from  the  course  I  have  mentioned. l 

1  Note. — Several  weeks  after  I  had  written  this  an  acquaintance  hap- 
pened to  tell  me  of  a  scene  which  he  witnessed  in  the  National  Theater 
in  the  City  of  Mexico.  It  was  the  evening:  of  the  "Distribution  of 
Premiums''  of  all  the  Preparatory  Government  Schools.  President  Diaz 
and  his  Cabinet  and  several  prominent  literary  men  were  on  the  plat- 
form. At  a  certain  stage  in  the  proceedings  Seflor  Manuel  Rubio,  a  dis- 
tinguished statesman  and  writer,  announced  that  an  Indian  belonging-  to 
the  humblest  class  would  address  the  audience  and  afterwards  receive 
his  premiums  for  proficiency  in  his  studies.  He  had  completed  the 
course  of  the  preparatory  schools,  finishing  such  studies  as  trigonometry, 
Latin,  and  preparatory  Greek.  He  had  attended  only  the  night  school, 
being  obliged  to  work,  like  other  youths  of  his  class,  during  the  day. 
When,  after  the  remarks  of  Seiior  Rubio,  the  young  man  arose,  dressed 
as  men  of  his  class,  in  coarse  white  cott9n  pantaloons  and  shirt — the  best 


222  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

'  'Well,  I  don't  know  what  is  to  be  done  about  it.  We  can 
scarcely  afford  new  suits  for  all  our  own  boys  for  that  occa- 
sion;— especially  if  we  are  to  save  anything  to  send  Carlos 
and  Timoteo  to  the  Military  School  next  year,  and  give  Tulis 
better  musical  advantages,"  replied  the  Director,  whose  heart, 
was  always  bigger  than  his  pocket  book. 

''Well,  something  must  be  done,"  said  the  sweet-faced 
Directora;  and  when  she  spoke  that  way  the  good  Director 
was  always  pretty  certain,  as  the  thought  of  it  crossed  his 
mind  in  the  midst  of  his  many  cares,  that  the  needful  thing 
would  be  done. 

The  clothes  of  a  neat  pepper  and  salt  design,  were  trium- 
phantly laid  before  him  on  the  day  before  the  Distribution  of 
Premiums. 

"Where  did  you  get  them?  "  he  exclaimed. 

*  'O,  I  went  to  several  wealthy  ladies  of  our  acquaintance 
and  told  them  the  story  and  took  their  subscriptions,  and 
then  I  went  and  bought  them.  Aren't  they  nice?  "  And  then 
the  Director  kissed  her,  but  that  was  an  act  that  was  not 
very  unusual  with  him. 

It  was 'in  these  clothes  and  with  a  new  hat  in  his  hand  that 
he  now  stood  in  the  Senator's  dining  room.  When  he  had 
put  them  on  that  evening  he  had  made  some  desperate  efforts 
to  get  a  view  of  his  person  in  a  mirror  that  was  not  much 
larger  than  the  palm  of  his  hand.  He  had  found  time  to 
think  a  good  deal  about  his  personal  appearance  in  the  last 
week.  *  'I  wish  I  could  wear  such  clothes  as  these  all  the 
time,"  he  had  said. 

Another  pinata  had  been  hung  up  and  the  children  were 
striking  at  it.  Magdalena  tripped  up  to  her  father,  and 
clasping  her  hands  over  his  arm,  said,  archly : 

he  had — and  went  up  through  the  vast  audience  and  made  his  graduating 
speech  there  were  gentlemen  even  in  the  audience  whose  eyes  were  moist. 
"The  teachers  would  have  given  him  better  clothes  for  the  occasion," 
said  the  gentleman  who  related  it,  "but  they  were  anxious  to  impress 
on  those  who  should  see  him  graduate  that  the  very  Indians  of  the  street 
were  well  worth  educating.7'  So  the  Senora  Directora  .was  mistaken.  . 
Things  are  done  in  that  picturesque  way  sometimes.  . 


CrfRISTMAS.  223 

"O  papa,  you  did  look  so  funny  and  awkward  when  you 
were  striking  at  the  pinata. " 

"Ah,  Magdalena,  you  are  a  naughty  girl  to  say  your  papa 
is  awkward,"  he  replied,  patting  her  cheek. 

"So,"  reflected  Teodoro,  "there  are  two  grown  daughters. 
'  I  do  wonder  what  her  name  is.  Some  people  would  say  this 
one  was  the  prettier,  but  I  don't  think  so."  Then  he  decided 
that  she  was  the  elder,  perhaps  because  she  was  a  little  taller. 
"I  like  tlie  way  she  dresses  better,  too,"  went  on  his  thoughts. 
'  'That  black  and  white  dress  is  so  simple,  and  she  has  on  no 
jewelry  at  all  but  that  little  pin." 

Just  then  Mercedes  came  toward  them.  She  was  going  to 
blindfold  a  little  girl.  When  she  was  near  them  Don  Fran- 
cisco said: 

"Mercedes." 

"Senor,"  she  replied  respectfully,  stopping. 

"Be  careful  to  arrange  the  handkerchief  well.  I  think 
Pedro  could  see." 

"Yes,  Senor,"  she  replied,  and  passed  on.     But  she  had 
done  what  from  time  immemorial  young  ladies  have  done  in-, 
jntionally  or  unintentionally  for  the  benefit  of  young  gentle- 
ten  who  are  in  love  with  them:  she  had  dropped  her  hand- 
cerchief.    What  happiness  for  Teodoro  to  step  forward,  pick 
it  up,  and  hand  it  to  her,  saying: 

4 'Here  is  your  handkerchief,  Senorita." 

"Thank  you,  Senor, "  said  Mercedes,  with  a  little  blush  as  she 

)k  it,  her  blush  deepening  as  she  glanced  at  his  face  and 

icognized  him,  notwithstanding  his  improved  appearance, 
as  the  young  man  she  had  seen  in  the  gallery. 

And  so  he  knew  her  name,  and  she  had  looked  at  him 
again,  and  he  had  touched  her  handkerchief,  and  had  done 
her  a  service,  and  she  had  blushed  when  she  looked  at  him, 

>m  which  he  knew  that  she  remembered  the  day  at  the 
gallery.  Each  of  these  things  was  great  gain,  especially  the 
first  and  last;  if,  indeed,  any  distinction  could  be  made 
between  them. 

He  lingered  at  .the  side  of  the  Sefior  Urbina  that  evening 
as  long  as  he  thought  it  would  be  pardonable  in  a  stranger 


224  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

who  was  there  under  such  circumstances,  and  then  took  his 
leave,  promising  to  call  the  next  morning  at  the  Palacio  to 
hear  his  decision. 

When  he  called  that  gentleman  told  him  he  did  not  need  a 
secretary,  but  he  thought  he  could  get  him  a  place  as  copyist. 
This  he  said,  wishing  to  do  a  favor  to  his  friend,  the  Senor 
Recio. 

Soon  afterward,  therefore,  Teodoro  was  engaged  as  a 
copyist.  In  this  employment  he  had  to  wear  his  good  clothes 
till  the  time,  though  he  did  not  know  how  more  were  to  be 
gotten  when  these  were  gone.  But  he  "trusted''  that  he 
might  be  able  to  get  more.  He  had  a  way  of  trusting  about 
all  these  things. 

He  took  a  room  in  a  better  tenement  house,  a  long  way  from 
the  part  of  the  city  in  which  his  parents  then  lived,  a  very 
poor  room,  to  which  there  was  a  very  poor  little  kitchen  at- 
tached, and  then  he  persuaded  his  two  sisters  to  come  to  him. 
He  could  do  extra  work  at  night  to  pay  for  the  two  rooms  and 
their  scanty  furniture.  They  could  make  rag  dolls  for  sale 
during  the  day  and  study  the  lessons  which  he  would  pre- 
scribe and  which  they  could  recite  to  him  in  the  evenings. 

Such  was  his  plan,  the  plan  that  his  mind  had  been  work- 
ing on  for  years.  They  consented  for  the  novelty  of  it. 

They  had  been  with  him  about  two  weeks,  making  few 
dolls  and  studying  no  lessons,  when  the  remainder  of  the 
family  took  up  their  abode  with  him,  and  by  their  drinking 
and  fighting  disgraced  him  in  that  house.  They  were  turned 
out  by  the  request  of  the  other  tenants;  and  when  he  found 
rooms  for  himself  and  his  sisters  in  still  another  house  they 
told  him  they  "would  rather  stay  with  mother."  By  per- 
sistent persuasion  and  promises  he  induced  them  to  come  to 
him,  and  the  result  was  the  same  as  before.  It  was  evident 
there  was  no  use  to  try  that  plan  any  longer.  He  found  a 
room  for  himself  in  another  part  of  the  city,  keeping  his 
whereabouts  concealed  from  them.  He  paid  a  respectable} 
neighbor  25  cents  a  day  for  his  meals.  She  always  spread  u 
coarse  but  clean  napkin  on  the  table  for  his  plate  and  served 
him  "like  the  sefior  he  was." 


AT  THE  OPENING  OF  CONGRESS.  225 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

AT    THE    OPENING    OF    CONGRESS. 

IT  was  the  evening  of  the  opening  of  the  National  Congress. 
Dofia  Flavia,  Magdalena  and  Mercedes  sat  together  in 
the  third  gallery  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  or  as  it  is  still 
often  called,  the  Iturbide  Theater,  because  during  the  reign 
of  that  sovereign  it  was  the  royal  theater.  The  bust  of  the 
gallant  and  handsome,  though  too  ambitious,  emperor  still 
looked  down  on  the  republican  gathering  from  above  the 
tribune. 

The  Chamber  of  Deputies  is  quite  handsome.  Around  four 
of  the  sides  run  six  narrow  galleries.  On  the  tribune,  or 
platform,  are  three  large  crimson  chairs.  From  the  center 
of  the  ceiling  hangs  a  splendid  chandelier  for  candles;  there 
are  several  other  chandeliers  for  gas. 

While  they  waited  for  the  President  to  arrive  the  two  girls 
amused  themselves  by  imagining  which  box  the  emperor 
and  his  family,  "the  empress  and  the  princes  and  princesses 
of  Mexico,"  as  Mercedes  said,  had  been  accustomed  to  occupy. 
The  floor  and  the  first  two  galleries  were  reserved  for  the 
congressmen  and  the  foreign  ministers.  In  one  box  they 
recognized  the  minister  from  Venezuela  and  the  minister 
from  England. 

The  congressmen  were  arriving.    They  greeted  each  other 
with  quiet  courtesy  and  cordiality,  and  then  seated  them- 
selves to  converse.     There  was  none  of  that  excessive  cere- 
mony which  foreigners  sometimes  observe  among  the  Mexi- 
cans.    Now  and  then  two  gentlemen  embraced,   after  the 
I  Spanish  custom.     They  were  elegantly  dressed  in  cloth,  and 
some  of  them  were  in  evening  dress. 
Two  or  three  short  speeches  were  made  and  the  minutes  of 
a  previous  meeting  were  read.     The  senators  arrived  and 
• 


226  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

the  deputies  arose  and  remained  standing  till  the  former  nad 
seated  themselves.  Soon  after  a  gentleman,  escorted  by  two 
others,  ascended  the  tribune  and  took  the  oath  of  senator 
before  the  President  of  the  Congress.  There  was  an  admir- 
able brevity  and  simplicity  in  all  these  proceedings. 

Mercedes  watched  everything  with  breathless  interest, 
while  the  pretty  Magdalena  fanned  and  tried  to  recognize  the 
few  ladies  in  the  galleries,  and  Dona  Flavia  looked  as  if  she 
were  suffering  from  chronic  ennui. 

Two  young  gentlemen  sat  near  them.  They  were  hand- 
somely dressed  and  elegant  in  their  manners,  and  one  of  them 
possessed  great  physical  beauty.  They  watched  the  pro- 
ceedings with  interest.  One  of  them,  however,  the  more 
handsome  one,  frequently  turned  his  eyes  furtively  toward 
Magdalena. 

"Well,"  observed  he,  looking  at  his  watch  with  great  satis- 
faction, "it  is  time  for  the  President  to  arrive." 

"What  did  you  say,  Ortega?     Excuse  me." 

'  'It  is  time  for  the  President  to  come. " 

Just  then  the  music  of  the  band  was  heard  outside,  and 
the  President  and  his  staff  entered.  Among  them  was  a 
portly  gentleman,  wearing  a  magnificent  uniform — so  mag- 
nificent was  it  that  one  could  not  imagine  where  another  brass 
button  or  bit  of  gold  cord  could  be  tacked.  In  his  hand,  with 
all  possible  dignity,  he  carried  his  cap.  It  was  gilt,  and  cov- 
ered with  the  most  beautiful  snow-white  ostrich  plumes. 

"Of  course  he  is  the  President,"  thought  Mercedes,  as 
she  watched  eagerly,  while  this  gorgeous  being  seated  him- 
self. She  h^d  eyes  for  no  one  else,  although  she  knew  that 
one  of  the  number  had  ascended  the  tribune  and  was  reading 
or  speaking.  She  thought  that  was  only  a  preliminary 
speech  till  Magdalena  whispered: 

"Can  you  understand  what  the  President  is  saying?" 

"The  President!     Then  who  is  that  in  the  uniform?" 

"O,  that  is  the  Minister  of  War." 

"Why  does  he  dress  with  such  magnificence,  more  than 
any  of  the  others?"  said  Mercedes. 


AT  THE  OPENING  OP  CONGRESS.  227 

'  'O,  I  suppose  it  is  to  give  us  to  understand  what  a  terrible 
thing  war  is.  That  is  nothing  to  the  way  he  dresses  some- 
times. You  ought  to  see  him  on  the  16th  of  September,  when 
all  the  soldiers  and  cannon  go  through  the  streets.  I  saw 
him  once  on  the  16th. " 

But  Mercedes  had  turned  her  attention  to  President  Diaz. 
He  was  seated  in  one  of  the  crimson  chairs,  reading  his 
annual  message.  He  was  a  portly,  handsome  gentleman,  in 
evening  dress,  white  kid  gloves  and  a  sash  or  badge  of  the 
national  colors,  red,  white  and  green,  across  his  breast.  She 
was  so  far  from  him  that  she  could  not  understand  all  of  the 
"message,"  but  she  caught  something  about  the  improve- 
ments in  the  way  of  schools,  railroads,  mining  and  other 
public  enterprises. 

"Mama,"  said  Magdalena,  "did  you  bring  the  opera  glass?" 

"No,  dear,  I  forgot  it,"  replied  that  lady,  listlessly. 

4  'O,  what  a  pity !  I  want  to  see  the  President. " 

"I  should  think  you  had  seen  him  often  enough  not  to 
grieve  because  you  can't  see  him  this  time." 

'  'But  you  know  I  never  did  see  him  reading  his  message 
before;  and  I  want  to  look  down  there  at  papa,  among  the 
senators,  and  see  if  he  is  pleased  with  the  message." 

"Will  the  SefLorita  do  me  the  honor  to  accept  my  glass?"1 
asked  the  gentleman  who  had  been  addressed  as  Ortega. 

Dona  Flavia  looked  around  quickly  at  the  speaker,  then 
extending  her  hand  with  a  "many  thanks,"  took  the  glass 
and  handed  it  to  her  daughter.  But  Magdalena  had  not  been 
oblivious  to  the  admiring  glances  which  the  handsome  young 
gentleman  had  been  casting  at  her  for  an  hour.  She,  the 
pretty  coquette,  slyly  thanked  him  too,  with  her  eyes.  Doila 
Flavia  saw  the  glances  which  were  exchanged,  and  after  that 
her  manner  lost  much  of  its  listlessness. 

"Well,  Ortega,"  whispered  his  companion,  as  he  turned 
his  face  again  toward  the  tribune,  "I  must  say  you  are  for- 
tunate. She  is  a  beauty.  I  haven't  seen  a  prettier  girl  in 
a — week." 

"Why  don't  you  say  in  your  whole  life!    She  is  an  angel. 


228  MERCEDES,   A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

I'll  give  it  up;  I've  completely  lost  my  heart,  and  that  before 
I've  been  back  here  in  my  beloved  country  two  days/' 

"No  doubt  she  will  go  to  the  ball  from  here.  I  heard  her 
say  something  about  her  father's  being  among  the  senators. 
A  dreary  time  you  will  have  waiting  till  near  daylight  to 
follow  her  carriage  home,  unless  you  happen  to  be  invited  to 
the  ball  yourself,  among  the  other  senators  and  deputies.'' 

"Look  what  an  arm  she  has,  and  what  a  neck!  I  didn't  see 
a  prettier  girl  in  all  Paris  than  she  is!  She  is  the  girl  for 
me.  I'll  marry  her,"  he  concluded  with  decision. 

"You  would  better  quit  looking  at  her.  Her  mother  sees 
you." 

"I  wish,"  said  Dofia  Flavia  restlessly,  as  the  reading  of  the 
message  was  concluded,  *  'that  we  could  leave  now  to  avoid 
the  crowd." 

"You  heard  that?  I  wonder,"  said  Hernandez,  "you  don't 
offer  your  services  to  conduct  the  ladies  to  their  carriage." 

"I  would  if  I  dared,"  replied  Jose  Maria  Ortega,  "I'm  des- 
perate enough  for  anything. " 

A  few  remarks  were  made  by  another  member  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  message  and  then  they  adjourned.  Imme- 
diately after  the  roar  of  cannon  announced  to  the  city  that 
the  proceedings  of  that  evening  were  over,  and  that  Congress 
was  "open." 

Dona  Flavia  and  the  two  young  ladies  arose.  As  the  for- 
mer returned  the  opera  glass  to  the  young  gentleman,  saying, 
"I  thank  you,  Senor,"  he  said,  in  his  most  faultless  manner: 

'  'Will  the  ladies  allow  me  the  pleasure  of  escorting  them 
to  their  carriage?" 

"Thank  you;  you  are  very  kind,  but  my  husband  will  be 
here  in  a  moment."  And  Jose  Maria,  a  little  discomfited, 
followed  his  friend  to  the  street.  He  had  arrived  two  days 
before  at  Vera  Cruz.  The  remainder  of  the  family  had  pre- 
ceded him  by  two  or  three  months.  They  had  left  him, 
hoping  he  would  pursue  his  studies  in  France;  but  that  young 
gentleman  did  not  find  studying  in  Europe  any  more  agree- 
able to  his  mind  than  it  had  been  when  he  was  in  the  college 


AT  THE  OPENING  OF  CONGRESS.  229 

of  which  the  Seflor  Recio  was  the  Director.  He  was,  how- 
ever, fond  of  popular  literature,  and  there  was  no  danger  but 
he  would  always  make  a  good  impression  hi  society.  Though 
he  was  a  nephew  of  Dofia  Flavia  neither  she  nor  Magdalena 
had  seen  him  since  he  was  a  child. 

He  did  not  have  to  keep  a  dreary  vigil  that  night  before 
the  building  of  the  Jockey  Club,  where  the  grand  ball  was 
given.  As  soon  as  they  reached  the  street  a  number  of 
friends  bore  Hernandez  away  to  the  meeting  of  a  club.  He 
invited  Jose  Maria  and  was  much  amused  that  he  should  re- 
fuse to  go.  The  latter  was  waiting  to  see  the  lady  and  her 
two  daughters  get  into  her  carriage.  Presently  he  saw  them, 
and  to  his  astonishment  his  uncle,  Francisco  Urbina,  was 
with  them.  ''But  no,  that  taller  girl  is  not  my  cousin;  she 
must  be  a  visitor.  The  other  is — what  is  her  name?  how  this 
tumbling  about  Europe  does  knock  even  one's  kinsfolk  out  of 
his  head!  Magdalena!  yes,  I  remember  now  that  is  it.  Well, 
Magdalena,  my  cousin,  I  have  begun  to  worship  you  to- 
night!" and  Jose  Maria  really  thought  he  was  paying  quite  a 
compliment  to  his  cousin  from  the  obscure  little  town  of 
Salta;  for  was  not  he  the  handsome,  wealthy,  traveled,  and 
courted  Jose  Maria  Ortega? 

The  next  morning  he  sat  hi  one  of  the  best  rooms  in  the 
Iturbide  Hotel.  The  furniture  was  handsome  and  old-fash- 
ioned; it  was  probably  some  of  the  same  that  was  there  when 
this  building  was  the  palace  of  the  emperor,  whose  name  at 
bears.  There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  obeying  his 
''Come  in,"  his  companion  of  the  night  before  entered. 

"Come  into  my  arms,  Hernandez.  Do  I  look  like  a  fellow 
who  has  watched  all  night  in  front  of  the  Jockey  Club?" 

"No,"  replied  Hernandez  as  they  embraced.  "But,  tell  me! 
Have  you  given  up  the  pursuit  of  your  Dulcinea  so  soon?" 

"No,  certainly  not.  I  saw  them  get  into  their  carriage,  and 
it  was  my  uncle  who  was  escorting  them,  so  I  knew  that  the 
young  lady  was  no  other  than  my  cousin,  my  first  cousin, 
Senor,  Magdalena  Urbina. " 

'  'Your  first  cousin !     That  is  bad. " 


230  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"Why?    I  don't  mind  marrying  my  first  cousin." 

'  'That  is  all  very  well,  but  you  know  you  will  have  to  pay 
for  a  dispensation — that  is  if  the  young  lady  and  her  relatives 
accept  you/'  replied  Hernandez,  watching  the  effect  of  the 
latter  part  of  his  speech  on  his  friend.  But  Jose  Maria  was 
too  much  impressed  in  his  own  favor  to  take  notice  of  such 
doubts. 

"There  is  nothing  more  agreeable  to  the  sacerdotal  mind," 
continued  Hernandez,  passing  a  cigarette  to  his  friend,  and 
lighting  one  himself,  "than  the  settling  of  the  degrees  of 
relationship,  and  the  estimating  how  much  can  be  wrung  out 
of  an  unfortunate  lover  for  a  dispensation.  The  eagerness 
with  which  the  zealous  'father'  rushes  in  to  take  the  declara- 
tion of  the  contracting  parties  is  supremely  ridiculous. " 

'  'Well  there  is  no  doubt  about  the  getting  of  a  dispensation 
to  marry  a  cousin,  you  know." 

"O,  of  course  not,  if  you  are  willing  to  pay  for  it.  Didn't 
one  of  our  illustrious  compatriots  wash  out  whatever  of  moral 
wrong  there  is  in  a  marriage  between  a  half-brother  and  sis- 
ter by  paying  $30,000  to  the  Pope?"  replied  Hernandez,  with  a 
jerk  of  his  head  in  the  direction  of  a  palatial  residence  a  little 
way  up  the  street.  "And  another,  with  whom  I  have  the 
honor  to  be  acquainted,  paid  $16,000  for  a  dispensation  to 
marry  his  niece.  If  you  wanted  to  marry  your  own  mother 
I've  no  doubt  you  could  get  a  dispensation  for  the  purpose 
from  His  Holiness  by  paying — much  or  little,  according  to 
your  ability.  And  if  our  spiritual  Head  should  find  out 
through  his  devoted  emissaries,  the  priests,  how  many 
shekels  your  Honor  can  command,  he  will  make  a  nice  little 
fortune  out  of  you,"  and  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
puffed  his  cigarette  with  the  complacent  air  of  a  man  who  is 
bearing  some  one  else's  trouble. 

'  'It  does  go  against  the  grain  to  pay  out  a  great  sum  of 
money  in  that  way.  But  what  is  a  fellow  to  do?  And  after 
all  'it  is  for  the  Church,  you  know,'  as  my  mother  would  say; 
and  a  clear  conscience  is  worth  something."  But  there  were 
two  reflections  in  his  mind  which  were  more  comforting  than 


AT  THE  OPENING  OF  CONGRESS.  231 

either  of  these:  one  was  that  it  was  aristocratic  to  pay  for 
dispensations;  the  other  was  that  he,  Jose  Maria  Ortega, 
could  afford  to  pay  a  much  larger  sum  than  most  young  men, 
epecially  than  Hernandez,  for  instance.  It  would  be  a  nice 
thing  to  have  the  cost  of  the  dispensation  mentioned  along 
with  the  trousseau  which  he  should  present  to  his  bride. 

'  'Why  don't  you  be  married  by  the  law  and  let  the  Church 
marriage  go?" 

1  'Have -some  wine,  Hernandez,"  said  Jose  Maria,  not  con- 
descending to  reply. 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  gentleman,  taking  the  glass  and 
holding  it  between  his  eyes  and  the  window,  "but  you  have 
not  answered  my  question,  Ortega.  I  am  surprised  that  so 
sensible  and  traveled  a  fellow  as  you  should  retain  any  re- 
spect for  the  superstitions  of  this  corrupt  institution  we  call 
'The  Church.'" 

'  'I  don't  suppose  you  think  I  would  be  married  in  any  but 
a  respectable  way.  Even  if  I  myself  were  willing  to  cut 
loose  from  all  respectability,  by  omitting  the  religious  mar- 
riage, do  you  suppose  that  any  young  lady  whom  I  would 
have  would  consent  to  it?  No,  I'm  no  reformer;  and  besides 
I  believe  in  the  Church.  I'm  not  among  those  who  set  them- 
selves to  pick  flaws  in  the  management  of  religious  matters. 
I  suppose  they  are  all  right  or  they  would  not  be  so.  At  any 
rate,  if  they  are  not  I'm  not  called  to  set  them  right.  You 
should  go  to  Europe,  Hernandez,  and  see  how  much  Catholi- 
cism has  contributed  to  the  advancement  of  the  world.  All 
the  great  artists  were  Roman  Catholics.  And  in  the  Dark 
Ages  the  monks  were  the  only  ones  who  thought  of  preserv- 
ing the  literature  of  former  centuries.  Roman  Catholicism 
is  ancient  and  aristocratic;  but  Protestantism,  think  of  it!  the 
mushroom  growth  of  yesterday!" 

"O,  I'm  not  making  any  defence  of  Protestantism;  though 
I  may  be  permitted  to  refer  to  the  fact — one  that  you  must 
have  observed  in  your  travels — that  the  Protestant  nations 
are  more  prosperous  than  the  Catholic  nations.  As,  for  my- 
self, I  am  an  Eclectic;  I  believe  in  examining  all  religions 


232  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

and  choosing  the  best  from  each  one.  However,  I  suppose  if 
I  were  going  to  be  married  I  should  be  married  by  the 
Church,  especially  as  it  is  as  you  say — that  no  respectable 
girl  would  take  me  without  it.  And  I'd  pay  for  a  dispensa- 
tion, too,  if  it  were  necessary,  and  I  liked  her  well  enough. 
But  as  to  the  rest  of  it — the  kneeling,  and  rolling  up  my  eyes 
to  images  and  confessing  to  these  villainous  priests — when 
it  comes  to  that,  excuse  me." 

*  'You  would  have  to  confess  to  the  priest  before  you  could 
be  married  by  the  Church." 

1  'Well,  thank  fortune,  I  have  no  idea  of  being  married 
soon.  But,  Ortega,  you  won't  buy  the  dispensation  before 
you  ask  the  girl  to  marry  you,  will  you?"  said  Hernandez  as 
he  deliberately  sipped  his  wine. 

"I  see  no  use  to  be  in  haste  about  any  of  it." 

"You  spoke  to  your  uncle  last  evening,  and  then  drove 
with  them  to  the  ball,  did  you?" 

"No,  I  didn't  care  about  the  ball.  One  finds  everything  in 
Mexico  stupid  after  Paris.  I  strolled  about  the  streets 
awhile  and  then  came  up  here." 

"When  is  the  campaign  to  begin?  I  have  a  dagger  here  in 
my  cane,"  he  said,  drawing  out  a  long,  slender,  shining  blade, 
"with  which  I  can  defend  you  from  the  dogs  and  all  rival 
lovers  while  you  and  my  lady  converse  at  her  balcony.  And 
if  you  need  any  original  sonnets,  command  me. " 

"Thank  you,  if  I  need  assistance  I  will  call  on  you." 

Then  the  conversation  of  the  young  gentlemen  wandered 
back  over  their  school  days.  Jose  Maria  was  eager  to  hear 
what  had  become  of  "the  boys"  during  the  year  and  a  half  he 
had  been  in  Europe.  At  last  Hernandez  said: 

"By  the  way,  Teodoro  Martinez  graduated  this  year.  You 
would  be  astonished  to  see  how  he  has  come  out.  I  met  him 
the  other  day  on  Plateros  and  he  looked  so  well  that  I — well 
I  was  overcome  with  recollections  of  old  times,  and  I  asked 
him  into  a  restaurant  and  we  dined  together.  I've  no  idea 
he  was  ever  in  such  a  place  before,  or  ever  dined  at  a  re- 
spectable table,  but  you  can't  imagine  what^ood  manners  he 


AT  THE  OPENING  OF  CONGRESS.  235 

has  picked  up  somewhere.  He  may  take  a  higher  place 
among  the  senators  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us  yet.  He 
wouldn't  be  the  first  Indian  who  had  done  that." 

Jose  Maria  laughed  heartily.  "How  could  you,  Hernandez? 
Didn't  you  think  of  his  mother  while  you  were  dining  with 
him?" 

"No;  I  tell  you  I  respect  the  fellow.  His  staying  in  school 
notwithstanding  all  the  ridicule  he  had  to  bear  showed  that 
he  had  the  right  metal  in  him. " 

"Ah,  Hernandez,  you  are  too  democratic.     Blood  will  tell." 

"What  about  Juarez  and  Ramirez  and  Altamirano  and 
some  of  the  rest  of  our  distinguished  countrymen  who  are 
Indians  of  pure  blood?  " 

But  we  will  not  follow  the  conversation  of  these  young 
gentlemen  any  farther. 

Dona  Flavia  indulged  in  some  gloomy  reflections  about  the 
young  gentleman  with  whom  Magdalena  had  exchanged 
glances  on  the  evening  before.  She  did  not  want  her  to 
marry  soon;  and  even  if  she  had  she  would  not  have  contra- 
dicted the  traditions  of  her  nation  by  failing  to  throw  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  a  suitor,  and  trying  to  make  him  believe  that- 
it  was  with  reluctance  she  gave  up  her  daughter.  "If  I 
could  only  tell  all  this  to  Francisco,"  she  thought.  "It  is  so 
hard  to  bear  everything  alone  and  have  no  one  of  whom  to 
ask  advice." 

As  she  sat  thinking  of  this  Don  Francisco  entered  the 
room.  She  was  a  little  startled,  for  he  had  avoided  her  ever 
since  that  sad  day  when  he  had  said,  "You  are  not  the  woman 
I  thought  you  were." 

He  had  begun  to  feel  that  a  reconciliation  on  any  terms 
would  be  better  than  the  constraint  of  the  past  few  weeks. 
Making  an  awkward  effort  to  seem  natural  he  said,  "Good 
morning,"  and  asked  if  she  was  feeling  well. 

*  'Not  very  well,  thank  you.  We  stayed  late  at  the  ball  and 
I  could  not  sleep  this  morning. " 

This  led  to  some  remarks  on  the  elegance  of  the  ball,  and 
after  a  few  minutes  of  this  forced  conversation  he  arose  to 
go,  saying  by  way  of  excuse  for  having  entered: 


234  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"Flavia,  do  you  know  where  my  handkerchief  box  is?  " 

"Yes;  it  is  in  the  top  drawer  of  the  bureau,  in  the  right 
hand  corner,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice.  She  knew  now 
why  he  had  come;  at  any  time  during  all  these  weeks  he  would 
have  bought  new  things  rather  than  to  ask  her  for  anything. 

"Francisco,"  she  said  tremulously  as  he  turned  to  go. 

She  had  risen  and  as  he  looked  at  her  she  dropped  her  face 
into  her  hands  and  burst  into  tears. 

"O,  why  will  you  treat  me  so?  "  she  sobbed.  "You  know 
I  didn't  mean — you  know  why  I  did  it,"  she  exclaimed,  chang- 
ing her  declaration. 

He  noticed  the  change  and  it  cut  him  to  the  heart.  He  re- 
alized in  his  disappointment  how  fully  he  had  hoped  to  for- 
give her.  But  he  would  take  what  she  could  give  and  be 
thankful  for  that.  He  went  back  to  her  and  putting  his  arm 
around  her  said  gently, 

*  'Don't  be  troubled,  Flavia.     I  know  you  would  never  have 
thought  of  any  of  it  but  for  the  mistaken  ideas  you  had  got- 
ten from  the  unprincipled,  ly — I  mean  from  the  priests,"  he 
said,  biting  his  tongue. 

She  drew  a  little  away  from  him,  and  then  leaned  on  him 
again.  The  hope  of  reconciliation  was  too  precious  to  be 
lost. 

"O,  Francisco,  if  you  only  would  do  right!  if  you  only 
would  do  what  would  be  for  your  good  and  the  children's! " 

From  his  heart  he  pitied  her.  "She  really  believes  it, 
poor  thing!"  he  said  to  himself;  and  again  he  cursed  the 
priests  in  his  heart.  But  he  did  not  forget  that  it  was  use- 
less to  reason. 

*  'These  weeks  have  been  very  sad  for  me,  Flavia.     Let  us 
forget  it  all." 

She  shrank  a  little  closer  to  him.  "If  you  care  for  me  how 
can  you  refuse  to  be  what  I  so  want  you  to  be,  a  true  son  of 
the  church?  " 

"We  will  not  talk  about  that,  dear;  I  have  my  convictions 
about  that;  let  us  not  mention  it  any  more;  we  have  plenty  of 
other  things  in  common." 


AT  THE  OPENING  OF  CONGRESS.  235 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Dofia  Flavia  was  deciding  that 
it  was  useless  to  mention  the  subject  of  religion  again  at 
present.  Then  she  said: 

'  kl  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  Magdalena.  I  am  troubled 
about  her." 

"What  about  her?  "  he  asked  with  a  violent  start.  Did  she 
want  to  enter  a  convent?  No,  that  would  probable  not 
trouble  her  mother. 

"There  was  a  gentleman  in  the  gallery  last  evening  who 
looked  at  her  a  great  deal  and  she  looked  at  him." 

"Is  that  all?  "  he  said,  his  face  breaking  into  a  smile,  as  he 
sat  down  on  the  sofa  and  drew  her  down  by  him.  In  spite  of 
an  effort  she  laughed,  too;  it  was  so  sweet  to  talk  to  each 
other  about  the  children  again. 

And  so  the  reconciliation,  such  as  it  was,  was  effected. 
There  was  never  any  other  such  serious  trouble  between 
them  as  this  in  which  the  "black  saint"  had  played  a  part. 
But  she  went  on,  in  her  way,  trying  to  save  her  children  for 
heaven,  and  he,  in  his  way,  tried 'to  save  them  for-  his  coun- 
try. He  never  dropped  back  into  his  beautiful  habit  of  for- 
mer days  of  sitting  by  her  with  his  hand  on  her  shoulder; 
he  always  sat  a  little  way  from  her,  and  the  little  children, 
with  their  sweet,  innocent  faces,  flitted  Between  them. 
They  both  suffered;  she  a  victim  of  a  false  religion,  and  he- 
was  not  he  a  victim  also? 

That  same  morning  Magdalena  entered  Mercedes'  room  in 
a  loose  dress,  her  long,  brown  hair  hanging  loose.  Mercedes 
looked  up  from  the  book  she  was  reading  as  she  entered. 

"Mercedes,  I  came  to  talk  to  you,  but  you  must  never  tell 
I  said  anything  to  you  about  it.  Did  you  notice  that  young 
gentleman  who  looked  at  me  so  much  last  evening?  " 

"I  don't  know.     There  were  two  near  us  I  believe." 

"It  was  one  of  them;  and  I  looked  at  him,  too,  sometimes, 
of  course,  when  mama  was  not  looking.  I'm  sure  I  made  an 
impression  on  him,  and  he  is  so  handsome  and  I'm  sure  he  is 
nice  and  everything.  I'll  meet  him  again  at  the  balls  some- 
where'. Think  of  dancing  with  him !  It  would  be  just  splen- 
did to  have  a  flirtation  with  somebody." 


236  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

'  'Is  it  right  to  have  flirtations  and  think  about  such  things 
so  much?  " 

''Right!  Who  ever  heard  of  its  being  wrong?  If  you  had 
been  shut  up  with  nuns  as  long  as  I  was,  amusing  yourself 
by  reciting  prayers  and  studying  the  catechism  and  embroid- 
ering robes  for  bishops  with  the  sisters  trying  all  the  time 
to  get  you  to  take  the  veil  and  become  just  like  them,  you 
would  think  a  flirtation  was  the  finest  prospect  in  the  world. 
But  I'll  go  if  you  have  no  sympathy  to  offer  me.  Adios." 

"What  a  pity  she  doesn't  appreciate  her  opportunities!" 
thought  Mercedes  as  she  returned  to  the  history  of  the 
miracles  and  glories  of  Mary. 


THE  STRONG  DELCJSION.  237 


CHAPTER  XXV.  . 

THE  STRONG  DELUSION. 

|NE  bright  Saturday  afternoon,  in  the  latter  part  of 
March,  Mercedes  and  Maximiliana  sat  together  in  a 
street  car  in  the  plaza  in  front  of  the  Cathedral.  They  were 
waiting  for  the  car  to  start  to  the  village  of  Gaudalupe 
Hidalgo.  This  is  the  most  sacred  place  in  Mexico  to  the 
Catholics,  because  it  was  here  that,  it  is  said,  the  Virgin  ap- 
peared to  the  Indian,  Juan  Diego,  and  announced  herself  as 
the  patron  saint  of  Mexico.  The  village  has  another  historic 
interest  for  Mexicans,  but  a  sad  one;  for  in  it  was  signed  the 
treaty  of  peace  between  Mexico  and  the  United  States  which 
gave  the  latter  nation  New  Mexico  and  California. 

During  the  few  minutes  that  they  were  waiting  not  fewer 
than  a  half-dozen  men,  women  and  boys,  agents  of  the  various 
lotteries,  entered,  and  thrust  their  tickets  before  their  faces, 
persistently  assuring  them  in  rapid,  singsong  tones  that  here 
was  their  opportunity  to  win  five  thousand,  ten  thousand,  a 
million  dollars.  They  all  wore  the  wretched,  feverish,  anx- 
ious, eager  expression  of  gamblers. 

Maximiliana  was  not  in  a  good  humor  with  her  friend.  She 
had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  watching  her  apprehensively,  as 
we  watch  persons  of  whom  we  say  that  they  are  "not  quite 
right."  She  had  reason  to  do  so.  Mercedes  had,  indeed, 
given  no  signs  of  mental  aberration,  but  she  was  becoming 
too  strong  a  Catholic  to  suit  her  independent  friend. 

A  few  days  before,  Maximiliana  had  taken  her  to  visit  the 
monastery  of  San  Fernando,  or  rather  the  comparatively 
small  part  of  it  that  still  remained,  for  much  of  it  had  been 
torn  away  to  open  streets  and  build  business  and  dwelling 
houses.  "It  extended  away  over  yonder  to  the  depot,"  she 
said  as  they  stood  in  a  passage  in  the  second  story  and  looked 


238  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

from  a  little  window  over  the  tops  of  the  surrounding  houses. 
The  part  that  was  left  was  used  as  a  tenement  house  and  was 
occupied  by  very  poor  people.  They  wandered  about  through 
long,  narrow,  dark  passages,  upstairs  and  downstairs,  glanc- 
ing into  the  little  cell-like  rooms,  each  with  its  tiny  window 
to  make  the  darkness  visible. 

"You  remember  seeing  in  the  National  Library  great  piles 
of  old  books,  thousands  and  thousands  of  them,  a  great  many 
of  them  written  in  Middle  Age  Latin?  They  were  taken  out 
of  this  and  other  monasteries  when  these  buildings  were  con- 
fiscated to  the  State." 

"And  the  monks  used  to  study  them  in  these  dark  little 
rooms!"  exclaimed  Mercedes  eagerly.  "I .wonder  what  they 
are  about!" 

"I  don't  know  what  they  are  about;  metaphysics,  I  sup- 
pose," replied  Maximiliana,  with  a  touch  of  impatience  in  her 
tone. 

But  Mercedes  was  thinking,  '  'What  pure  and  soul-stirring 
treasures  of  wisdom  those  books  must  contain !  What  knowl- 
edge of  'the  plan  of  salvation !'  No  doubt  they  would  answer, 
oh,  so  many  puzzlipg  questions." 

"O,  Maximiliana,"  she  exclaimed,  her  voice  trembling  and 
her  face  illuminated  with  the  thought,  '  'how  sweet  it  must 
have  been  to  spend  the  time  here  studying  such  books  and 
only  going  out  to  help  the  poor  and  sick,  and  those  whose 
souls  were  troubled. " 

'  'You  seem  to  have  a  queer  idea  of  the  monks.  There  may 
have  been  monks  of  that  kind  in  the  world  a  long  time  ago, 
but  the  Mexican  monks  were  not  hurt  with  goodness.  I 
don't  know  anything  about  them  except  what  I  have  heard, 
and  a  little  that  I  have  read,  for  that  order,  of  things  passed 
away  before  my  day;  but  my  mother  remembered  seeing 
them  when  she  was  a  young  girl.  They  used  to  go  up  to 
Salta  from  Guadalajara  on  their  missions.  It  was  long  be- 
fore the  days  of  railroads,  of  course,  and  they  would  go  that 
thousand  or  more  miles  in  long  processions  of  carriages. 
The  monks  always  rode  in  the  front  carriages  and  the  nuns 


THE  STRONG  DELUSION.  239 

in  those  behind.  She  said  the  nuns'  carriages  were  always 
closed,  and  when  they  were  not  in  the  carriages  they  were 
always  heavily  veiled,  because,  forsooth,  they  were  too  holy 
to  be  looked  on  with  by  unsanctified  eyes.  The  monks  wore 
hideous,  long,  coarse  robes,  to  impress  the  people  with  their 
holiness,  and  under  those,  when  one  happened  to  see,  bless 
you!  they  were  dressed  like  personages  of  the  highest  dis- 
tinction. And  that  was  the  way  they  were  about  everything— 
grand  hypocrites. " 

But  Mercedes  only  thought,  "Maximiliana  is  so  preju- 
diced!" 

After  that  they  had  visited  a  convent.  It  was  a  large, 
irregular  building,  varying  in  height,  and  in  the  most  capri- 
cious way,  from  one  to  two  stories,  and  looking  as  if  it  were 
a  pile  of  blocks  that  giant  children  had  thrown  together.  It 
wandered  around  several  courts.  The  rooms  were  small  and 
dark,  many  of  them  receiving  their  only  light  from  their 
doors  or  from  a  small  iron-barred  window  far  above  their 
heads.  Respectable  families  lived  there,  and  before  their 
doors  were  flowers,  and  birds  in  cages,  and  happy-faced  chil- 
dren; all  of  it  a  strange  contrast  to  the  former  things. 

There  in  those  tiny  rooms  were  buried  alive — not  a  few— 
but  thousands  of  girls,  many  of  them  daughters  of  the  most 
aristocratic  families.  With  hearts  as  pure  as  Mercedes'  own 
they  had  entered  on  that  life,  dressed  like  brides,  for  they 
were  to  be  wedded  to  religion,  and  it  was  announced  that 
from  that  day  they  were  too  pure  to  be  looked  on,  even  by 
their  nearest  relatives.  The  disappointments  and  trials  and 
longing  for  liberty  we  can  only  imagine. 

When  they  came  out  of  this  convent  Mercedes  exclaimed: 

"Maximiliana,  I  have  resolved  to  be  a  Sister  of  Charity. 
You  need  not  stare  at  me.  Isn't  heaven  worth  all  that  one 
can  do  to  win  it?  Even  if  he  must  spend  long  days  of  tasting 
and  nights  of  penance  and  prayer?  Think  of  the  blessed 
privilege  of  helping  the  distressed!  Think  of  what  it  yould 
be  to  help  these  Indians !  Look  at  them  yonder,  mere  bearers 
of  burdens;  how  sweet  it  would  be  to  go  into  their  homes. 


240  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

and  teach  them  to  be  women,  to  love  their  children  and  care 
for  them,  to  love  and  reverence  the  Holy  Mother  of  God! 
And  even  if  there  were  no  pleasure  in  doing  all  that,  how  is 
one  to  attain  the  salvation  of  his  soul  without  good  works? 
They  might  kill  me,  too,  in  one  of  those  terrible  tenement 
houses,  and  then  I  should  be  sure  of  heaven.'' 

"Well,"  replied  Maximiliana,  after  a  long  pause,  "I  have 
nothing  to  say  to  all  that,  of  course,  if  you  have  made  up 
your  mind  to  it." 

"I  was  too  much  astonished,  and  I  hadn't  the  patience,  any- 
how, to  say  a  word  to  her!"  she  had  exclaimed,  after  she  had 
related  it  all  to  Tomas.  ''I  promised  to  take  her  to  the  Vil- 
lage of  Guadalupe,  but  I'm  so  disgusted  I've  a  mind  not  to 
do  it!" 

"Yes,  I  would,  if  I  were  you.  I  would  not  break  friend- 
ship with  her.  Maybe  you  can  persuade  her  and  show  her 
the  foolishness  of  such  a  course, "  Tomas  had  replied  to  his 
impetuous  helpmeet.  And  so  it  happened  that  they  were  on 
the  way  to  the  most  sacred  shrine  of  the  Virgin. 

A  few  other  persons  entered  the  car  and  soon  it  started 
over  "the  broad  old  road  of  humiliation,  prayer  and  penance. 
Along  all  these  weary  miles  of  scourges  and  suffering,  thou- 
sands and  tens  of  thousands  of  the  devotees  of  the  Romish 
Church  have  knelt  and  wept  and  crawled,  praying  for  the 
expiation  of  their  sins,  in  obedience  to  priestly  decree,  or 
superstitious  sense  of  duty." 

But  nobody  does  that  now;  it  seems  to  have  lost  its  virtue. 
When  the  wife  of  the  President  and  two  hundred  of  the  other 
principal  ladies  of  the  City  of  Mexico  went  to  this  shrine  a 
short  time  ago  to  implore  the  intercession  of  Our  Lady  of 
Guadalupe  that  the  cholera  might  be  averted,  they  did  not 
go  on  their  knees. 

So  strong  was  the  crying  in  Mercedes'  soul  for  peace  it 
would  have  been  a  relief  to  her  to  kneel  and  weep  and  crawl 
and  scourge  herself  in  the  old  fashion  all  the  way  from  the 
Cathedral  to  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  village  they  went  first  to  the  spot 


THE  STRONG  DELUSION.  241 

where,  it  is  said,  the  Virgin  appeared  the  fourth  time  to  Juan 
Diego.  There  is  nothing  imposing  about  the  building.  The 
railing  in  front  of  the  altar  is  of  solid  silver,  covered  with 
gold.  It  is  about  one  and  a  half  inches  thick.  But  it  is  not  of 
fine  workmanship,  and  the  pictures  representing  the  appear- 
ances of  the  Virgin  have  no  merit  as  works  of  art. 

There  were  several  well-dressed  ladies,  kneeling  and  recit- 
ing prayers  to  one  or  another  of  the  images  or  pictures. 
Among  them  went  a  woman  with  a  dust  pan  and  a  broom, 
busily  sweeping  the  floor. 

Mercedes  having  recited  her  prayers  here,  while  Maxi- 
milian a  sat  on  one  of  the  benches  and  looked  on,  they  went 
to  the  tiny  chapel  where  the  Virgin  appeared  the  second  and 
third  times,  and  where  she  gave  the  flowers  to  the  Indian. 
In  the  anteroom  is  a  large  and  strongly  boiling  spring  of 
chalybeate  water;  it  was  created  by  the  Virgin  and  therefore 
has  miraculous  properties. 

Once  a  year  thousands  of  Indians  come  on  pilgrimages 
hundreds  of  miles  to  pass  here  the  Day  of  the  Virgin  of 
Guadalupe,  to  drink  of  this  water  and  to  engage  in  the  great 
dance  in  honor  of  Our  Lady,  and  buy  the  little  cakes  made  of 
this  holy  earth  and  stamped  with  her  image,  which  cakes 
have  virtue  to  cure  them  of  any  or  "all  the  ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to." 

Mercedes  and  her  friend  drank  from  one  of  the  little  leak- 
ing copper  buckets,  the  former  remarking,  "You  know,  of 
course,  I  don't  believe  that  this  water  has  any  miraculous 
power,  nor  those  cakes  either.  I  leave  all  such  nonsense  as 
that  to  the  Indians." 

"The  Infallible  Church  teaches  it.  If  you  accept  one  of  her 
doctrines  you  ought  to  accept  all." 

"That  does  not  follow  at  all.  It  is  necessary  to  teach  the 
Indians  a  religion  that  is  within  the  grasp  of  their  intellect. 
We  are  not  expected  to  believe  it." 

At  last  they  ascended  the  hill  to  visit  the  holiest  place  of 
all,  the  little  chapel  which  marks  the  spot  where  she  appeared 
the  first  time.  There  is  a  wide  stairway  of  stone  steps  from 

16 


242  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

the  base  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  tiny  church  on  the 
summit  is,  like  all  the  others,  adorned  with  many  images  and 
pictures,  all  of  them  of  little  or  no  artistic  merit.  On  slabs 
in  the  stone  floor  of  the  chapel  are  inscriptions  marking  the 
final  resting  place  of  those  whose  riches  have  secured  them 
the  privilege  of  burial  there.  In  the  paved  space  in  front  of 
the  chapel  there  are  other  and  similar  inscriptions,  and  behind 
the  edifice  there  is  a  small  cemetery  with  many  rich  and 
curious  monuments.  The  eyes  grow  tired  of  looking  at  the 
heavy,  silver  chains  with  which  they  are  adorned.  Here, 
under  a  plain  marble  slab,  sleeps  Santa  Anna,  his  fever- 
ish life  ended.  He  rests  here  in  the  most  sacred  of  the 
burying  grounds,  but  "unwept,  unhonored  and  unsung"  by 
the  Mexicans.  But  they  speak  no  evil  of  him — no  more  than 
they  do  of  the  unfortunate  Maximilian. 

"When  they  had  reached  the  -summit  of  the  hill  Mercedes 
had  turned  her  head  for  an  instant  and  caught  her  breath  as 
the  landscape  burst  upon  her  vision.  But  duty  called  her, 
and  she  entered  the  chapel  to  count  her  beads  and  repeat 
Ave  Marias  and  Pater  Nosters  as  rapidly  as  her  girlish 
voice  could  slip  over  the  words;  then  to  the  cemetery,  and 
duty  was  ended. 

When  they  came  back  to  the  front  of  the  chapel  the  land- 
scape again  swan?  before  her  eyes,  and  she  exclaimed:  "How 
beautiful,  beaut' _ul!" 

There  in  the  distance  was  the  amphitheater  of  purple 
mountains;  and  from  the  circular  range  arose  the  snow-cov- 
ered volcanoes,  Popocatepetl  and  Ictacihuatl,  the  Woman 
in  White.  They  were  giants  once,  and  husband  and  wife; 
but  the  Great  Spirit  became  enraged  against  them  and  turned 
the  woman  to  stone.  When,  in  former  years,  Popocatepetl 
roared  and  poured  out  lava,  the  Indians  said  it  was  in  grief 
and  rage  for  the  death  of  his  wife. 

One  who  has  ever  seen  a  corpse  covered  with  a  sheet  will 
never  forget  how  the  sheet  sinks  down  over  the  still  body, 
showing  every  outline.  Well,  yonder  it  is,  that  sheet,  '  'white 
as  no  fuller  on  earth  could  whiten  it,"  sunk  down  over  the 


THE  STRONG  DELUSION.  243 

corpse  of  the  giant  Ictacihuatl.  It  is  all  there,  the  '  'decent 
composure"  of  the  figure,  the  head,  the  folded  arms,  the  feet. 
Her  long  black  hair  streams  down  the  mountain  side.  Along 
the  whole  length  of  the  mountain  she  lies,  the  dead  giant 
wife,  and  by  her  side,  but  at  a  little  distance,  as  if  he  would 
not,  through  reverence  for  the  mystery,  approach  too  near 
the  dead,  stands  the  giant  husband,  his  hoary  head  among 
the  clouds. 

At  their  feet  lies  the  Valley  of  Mexico,  green  as  emerald, 
and  dotted  with  little  silver  lakes  and  patches  of  yellow 
flowers.  In  the  distance  smiles  the  broad  peaceful  surface  of 
Lake  Tezcuco,  now  silver,  now  blue,  in  the  soft  sunlight.  In 
the  midst  of  the  valley  sits,  like  a  queen,  the  City  of  Mexico. 

I  have  seen  much  of  the  beauty  of  mountains  and  of  val- 
leys. I  have  seen  the  mountains  when  an  ethereal,  purple 
veil  hung  over  them,  so  near  it  seemed  I  might  put  out  my 
hand  and  touch  its  silken  folds,  if  it  were  tangible.  I  have 
opened  a  door  sometimes  in  winter  and  started  back  because 
the  mountains  seemed  to  stand  at  the  very  entrance,  like 
great,  brown,  grim  giants.  I  have  seen  range  on  range, 
covered  with  glittering  snow.  I  have  seen  them  gorgeous  in 
autumn  foliage.  I  have  stood  on  the  mountains  and  seen  the 
white  fog  rolling  and  heaving  and  tossing,  like  the  ocean, 
they  said ;  and  then  it  would  break  and  r*oll  away,  and  there 
below  would  be  the  green  valley  and  the  silvery  streams  and 
the  peaceful  farm  houses,  with  the  blue  smoke  curling  up- 
ward from  their  chimneys.  I  have  stood  on  Lookout  Moun- 
tain and  gazed  on  the  city  below,  the  winding  river,  and  that 
magnificent  semicircle  of  country,  and  far  off  into  the  adjoin- 
ing States.  But  never  in  my  life  have  I  seen  any  panorama 
that  for  beauty  and  sublimity  was  equal  to  the  Valley  of 
Mexico  and  its  encircling  mountains. 

Mercedes  gazed,  speechless.  The  past  arose  before  her 
and  she  "saw  a  vision."  The  tribes  were  coming  over  the 
mountains  from  the  North— Ah!  whence  did  they  come?— 
and  they  descended  into  the  lake  of  islands  and  built  a  city,  for 
so  had  the  god  commanded  them.  The  centuries  swept  by 


244  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

and  over  the  ocean  came  some  great  white- winged  living 
creatures,  and  out  of  them  stepped  Quetzalcoatl,  the  Fair 
God,  so  long  foretold  and  expected,  and  with  horrible  cruel- 
ties he  and  his  followers  taught  the  worship  of  the  true  God 
to  the  dwellers  in  the  beautiful  valley. 

Then  she  remembered  that  the  Virgin  had  appeared  on  this 
very  hill  in  all  her  celestial  majesty,  beautiful  as  Venus  when 
she  appeared  to  ^Eneas,  as  he  looked  down  on  the  rising 
walls  of  the  city  of  Dido;  and  again  she  remembered  that  she 
had  read  in  a  book  of  Castelar's  that  the  English  poet  Byron 
had  believed  that  he  saw  in  the  twilight,  '  -on  the  border  of 
the  horizon,  beyond  Venice,  gliding  over  the  waters  like  the 
stars  of  heaven,  the'  Mother  of  the  Word,  with  the  moon 
under  her  feet,  and  with  the  mysterious  white  dove  fluttering 
its  wings  on  her  forehead  in  that  sublime  hour  of  prayer  and 
of  love."  "Oh,  what  manner  of  man  in  all  holiness  of  life 
and  of  heart  must  have  been  that  poet  Byron  ever  after!"  she 
exclaimed. 

"Why  might  not  I  see  a  vision  of  the  Virgin  Mother?"  she 
asked  herself.  She  had  resolved  now  as  a  last  resort  to  give 
up  all  the  hope  and  joy  and  brightness  of  life,  and  it  was  no 
small  sacrifice  (and  the  sobs  choked  her,-  and  she  wrung  her 
hands  as  she  thought  of  the  giving  up  of  life);  she  had 
resolved  to  shroud  Ser  young  form  in  mourning,  to  spend  her 
nights  in  prayer  and  penance,  and  her  days  in  fasting  and  in 
good  works  among  the  most  degraded,  to  give  all  her 
thoughts  to  the  worship  of  God  and  of  his  "Holy  Mother." 
She  had  struggled  long  to  know  the  truth;  she  had  walked 
in  darkness  and  had  no  light,  she  said  to  herself;  forget- 
ting for  the  moment  that  when  she  had  been  forced  to  face 
the  question,  she  had  felt  in  her  heart  that  if  she  knew  the 
Protestants  had  the  truth  she  would  not  accept  it  from  them. 

She  fell  on  her  knees  and  clasped  her  hands,  as  she  gazed 
at  the  snow-capped  mountains  and  the  lake  at  their  feet.  If 
she  could  only — could  only  see  for  one  instant  the  fair  Virgin 
Mother  with  the  Babe  on  her  bosom  gliding  over  those 
waters,  then  she  should  know  that  she  had  done  right;  then 


THE  STRONG  DELUSION.  245 

she  should  know  that  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  was  the 
true  church.  That  should  be  a  sign  to  her.  Could  it  be  de- 
nied? Was  it  not  reasonable  and  right  that  the  "Queen  of 
Heaven,"  the  "Holy  Mother  of  God,"  should  give  her  a  sign 
now  that  she  might  no  longer  walk  in  darkness,  but  might 
enter  on  this  new  life  with  confidence  that  she  should  in  it 
and  by  it  win  salvation?  Her  soul  demanded  it. 

She  watched  a  long  time  with  in  tensest  gaze.  There,  near 
the  mountains,  on  the  border  of  the  blue  lake,  did  not  some- 
thing move?  She  pressed  her  clasped  hands  on  her  bosom 
and  gazed — and  gazed — till,  with  bitterness  of  soul,  she  knew 
it  was  nothing. 

Then  she  arose.  '  'What  was  she  that  she  should  ask  a  sign 
from  heaven!  She,  who,  as  yet,  knew  nothing  of  fasting  and 
prayer  and  scourging!  She,  who  had  come  easily  and  luxu- 
riously to  worship  at  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin !  It  was  not  to 
such  that  signs  and  visions  were  granted." 

She  drew  her  black  scarf  over  her  head,  mechanically 
brushed  the  dust  from  her  plain  black  dress,  then  entered 
the  chapel  and  spoke  to  Maximiliana,  who  sat  there  waiting 
and  resting;  and,  saddened  and  silent,  both  of  them,  they 
went  down  the  hill  and  to  the  station,  and  to  the  city. 

That  night,  when  the  house  was  quiet,  Mercedes  locked 
her  door  and  then  went  to  a  small  piece  of  furniture,  that  is 
called  in  Mexican  homes  a  buro.  It  had  a  drawer,  and  below 
it  a  door  which  opened  on  a  case  of  shelves.  She  knelt  and 
drew  out  the  drawer  slowly,  for  there  was  something  in  it 
which  made  it  heavy. 

And  there  lay  the  things,  dark,  .heavy  things,  horrible  - 
looking  things,  coiled  and  folded,  on  the  bottom  of  the 
drawer.  She  had  borrowed  them  secretly  from  an  old  woman 
who  sometimes  came  to  the  house,  and  who  had  happened  to 
tell  her  of  them  one  day.  Night  after  night  she  had  knelt 
there  and  looked  at  them,  and  then  closed  the  drawer  and 
lain  down  on  her  bed  and  slept,  or  tossed  till  day. 

To-night  she  took  up  one  of  them.  It  was  a  belt  closely 
woven  of  iron  half -links,  with  the  two  sharp  points  of  each 


246  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

link  turned  on  the  same  side  of  the  belt.  She  hooked  it 
about  her  waist,  next  her  flesh.  Then  she  took  up  two  instru- 
ments like  soles  of  shoes.  There  were  sharp  iron  points  on 
them.  She  fastened  them  on  her  feet,  with  the  points  next 
the  flesh.  After  that  she  lifted  up  from  its  coils  a  leathern 
scourge  of  three  thongs,  furnished  with  sharp  points  of  iron, 
and  having  bared  her  shoulders,  she  scourged  herself  with  it 
till  the  blood  flowed;  and  at  every  movement  the  belt  digged 
into  the  flesh  of  her  waist  and  the  sharp  points  into  her  feet. 
When  this  was  ended  she  lay  all  night  on  the  bare  floor. 

Do  you  think  I  have  exaggerated  this?  Do  you  think  that 
nobody  does  this  now  that  we  are  almost  at  the  end  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  unless  it  vbe  some  fanatic  in  a  convent? 
You  are  mistaken.  A  few  days  ago  I  read  in  a  secular 
paper,  published  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  that  two  young 
ladies  in  Yucatan,  one  of  the  States  of  this  Republic,  had 
killed  themselves  by  the  exercises,  that  is  the  scourging  and 
other  mortifications  of  the  body,  to  which  they  subjected 
themselves  by  way  of  preparation  for  the  Holy  Week,  which 
is  just  past.  In  many  cities  and  towns  of  Mexico  the  people 
shut  themselves  in  the  churches  at  night,  the  women  in  one 
part  of  the  church  and  the  menAn  the  other,  put  out  the 
lights  and  scourge  each  other  with  the  leathern  scourge,  the 
disciplina,  as  it  is  called,  and  with  thorny  sticks,  as  a  prep- 
aration for  the  taking  of  the  eucharist  during  Holy  Week. 

The  Church  invented  penance  in  order  to  sell  dispensations, 
but  there  are  people  who  have  a  better  opinion  of  the  Church, 
and  they  think  the  prescribed  mortifications  are  for  the  good 
of  the  soul. 

While  Mercedes  scourged  herself  there  stood  in  front  of 
the  house  a  young  man,  looking  at  Dofia  Plavia's  window, 
that  young  man  to  whom  years  before  Lupe  Rodrigues  had 
taught  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 


THE  GOD  CUPID.  247 

\ 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    GOD    CUPID. 

is  no  image  of  him  in  the  temples  among  those  of 
J  the  other  gods,  but  his  influence  is  none  the  less  potent 
for  that  omission. 

Jose  Maria  Ortega  had  "opened  the  campaign."  Had  he 
called  at  his  uncle's  house  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  his 
aunt  and  cousins?  Did  he  call  afterward  on  Magdalena 
alone?  Did  he  take  her  to  parties,  theaters  and  operas?  Did 
he  drive  with  her?  By  no  means;  that  is  not  the  way  court- 
ing is  done  in  Mexico. 

He  might  have  called  at  the  house  but  for  the  fact  that  the 
idea  that  Dona  Flavia  did  not  like  him  had  somehow  intro- 
duced itself  into  his  head.  But  there  were  other  ways  to 
make  known  his  feelings  to  his  pretty  cousin.  He  knew  that 
she,  like  all  other  fashionable  young  ladies  whose  papas  were 
so  fortunate  as  to  own  carriages,  would  drive  with  her  mama 
in  the  afternoons;  so  he,  too,  frequented  the  drive.  He  rode 
horseback,  and  he  was  not  less  handsome  on  horseback  than 
in  any  other  position  or  occupation— a  fact  of  which  he  was 
as  fully  aware  as  anybody  else. 

Sometimes  he  swept  along  the  drive  among  the  flying  car- 
riages and  other  horsemen  in  a  magnificent  equestrian  cos- 
tume, that  which  is  called  "the  national  costume,"  more  be- 
cause in  has  been,  adopted  as  such  than  because  of  its  general 
use.  If  consisted  of  a  jacket  and  pantaloons,  ornamented  to 
the  highest  degree  with  silver  cord  and  buttons;  a  broad- 
brimmed,  bell-crowned  hat,  heavily  adorned  with  silver  cord 
and  the  Mexican  eagle;  immense  spurs,  inlaid  with  silver;  a 
large  saddle,  ornamented  with  the  same  precious  metal,  and 
reins,  because  of  whose  silver  decorations, 

"When  he  rode  men  might  his  bridle  hear 
Jingling  in  the  whistling  wind  as  clear. 
And  eke  as  loud  as  doth  the  chapel  bell." 


248  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

A  shawl  of  fine  material,  and  of  all  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow, lay  behind  his  saddle  and  swept  nearly  to  the  ground  on 
either  side.  So  radiant  was  the  picture,  so  handsome  and 
proud-looking  the  man  on  that  magnificent,  prancing  horse, 
that  one  could  not  think  of  anything  else  but  a  Spanish 
Hidalgo  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

This  costume  was  a  sort  of  advertisement,  a  refined  and 
conventional  one,  of  course,  that  Jose  Maria  was  the  owner 
of  a  costly  hacienda.  Those  who  guessed  that  this  gala- 
attire  cost  $500  were  not  mistaken.  But  our  young  gentle- 
man did  not  display  himself  in  this  style  often  nowadays. 
He  had  been  to  Paris.  The  consequence  was  that  he  had  a 
good-natured  contempt  for  all  things  Mexican.  He  generally 
took  the  air  on  the  Paseo  de  la  Reforwia,  dressed  in  the  latest 
Parisian  style. 

He  soon  learned  at  what  hours  Don  Francisco's  carriage 
was  to  be  expected,  and  he  was  always  not  far  from  it.  One 
afternoon,  as  he  galloped  along  a  little  way  from  the  car- 
riage, he  had  the  good  fortune  to  catch  Magdalena's  eye  when 
her  mother  was  not  looking.  He  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed, 
and  she  returned  the  salutation.  It  was  the  slighest  bow 
imaginable,  and  then  she  did  not  look  at  him  again,  but 
instead  devoted  herself  with  redoubled  assiduity  to  the  tiny 
dog  on  her  lap;  but  he  was  satisfied.  He  knew  that  she 
would  look  again  when  he  looked  away,  and  when  she 
thought  her  mother  would  not  detect  her  glances,  and  so 
away  he  went  on  his  prancing  horse,  now  far  before,  now  a 
little  behind,  with  the  pleasant  belief  in  his  heart  that  among 
all  those  elegantly  dressed  young  ladies  in  all  the  carriages 
who  were  in  love  with  him,  Magdalena  was  no  exception. 
After  that  he  never  failed  to  catch  her  eye  when  she  was 
driving,  and  bow  to  her. 

In  the  Alameda,  too,  whither  the  elite  of  Mexico  resort  in 
their  most  elegant  attire  on  Sunday  mornings,  he  never 
failed  to  meet  her  as  she,  with  her  mother  or  with  other 
young  ladies,  "walked  the  other  way." 

Once  he  saw  her  and  another  girl  sitting  alone  on  a  seat. 


THE  GOD  CUPID.  249 

Presently  the  latter  arose  and  went  off  a  few  steps.  When 
her  back  was  turned  Jose  Maria,  who  had  been  watching  for 
such  an  opportunity,  threw  a  tiny  perfumed  note  to  Magda- 
lena's  feet.  She  caught  it  up  quickly,  and  concealed  it  before 
her  companion  returned.  She  was  very  much  fluttered  and 
a  little  frightened  at  her  own  boldness,  but  it  was  very  sweet 
and  thrilling.  When  she  was  alone  in  her  own  room  she  opened 
the  letter  and  read  it.  It  was  a  love  letter  than  which  none 
more  hyperbolical  has  ever  been  written,  perhaps.  She  was. 
his  Angel,  his  Queen,  his  Rose,  his  Dove,  his  Star,  etc.,  etc. 
It  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  letters  with  which  he  hon- 
ored her.  The  chirography  in  all  these  letters  was  pretty  as 
a  picture;  several  kinds  would  be  displayed  in  the  same  let- 
ter; sometimes  it  leaned  to  the  right,  sometimes  to  the  left, 
and  sometimes  it  stood  straight  up.  In  the  more  advanced 
stage  of  his  feelings  he  bribed  a  chambermaid  to  convey 
these  letters  to  Magdalena;  but  that  was  after  he  had  at  last 
called  at  the  house  and  introduced  himself  to  Dona  Flavia  as 
her  nephew,  that  he  might  have  the  privilege  of  calling  often 
on  the  family. 

Then  came  the  serenading  under  her  window.  And  often 
he  came  to  her  window  when  he  did  not  serenade,  but  only 
gave  a  low  whistle  which  her  attentive  ears  recognized. 
Then  she  went  out  on  the  tiny  balcony  upstairs  and  talked 
with  him  as  he  stood  in  the  street  below.  A  pretty  picture 
they  made,  he  wrapped  in  a  long,  handsome  black  cloak, 
looking  up  at  her  as  she  in  the  daintiest  and  softest  of 
dresses,  and  with  a  silken  shawl  thrown  carelessly  about  her, 
leaned  over  the  balcony  in  the  moonlight.  So  common  is  this 
Romeo  and  Juliette  method  of  courting  that  there  are  few 
people  who  have  spent  any  time  in  Mexico  who  have  not  seen 
more  than  one  such  tableaux. 

Dofia  Flavia  and  Don  Francisco  watched  Jose  Maria  closely 
during  the  evenings  which  he  spent  in  their  parlor.  There 
were  some  reasons  for  which  he  would  be  to  both  of  them  an 
acceptable  son-in-law;  among  these,  of  course,  were  his 
wealth  and  his  aristocratic  origin,  for,  as  Dofia  Flavia  would 


250  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

have  said,  "He  is  one  of  our  family,  you  know."  But  each 
of  them  had  some  objections  to  him. 

They  suspected  that  the  serenades  were  his,  but  of  the  in- 
terchange of  letters  and  the  secret  meetings  they  knew 
nothing.  They,  like  all  other  parents  in  Mexico,  would  have 
said  that  such  proceedings  were  "very  ugly;"  but  if  they 
had  come  to  their  knowledge  they  would  have  taken  no 
extreme  measures.  Their  own  courting  had  doubtless  been 
done  in  much  the  same  way.  Such  evasions  of  parental 
authority  were  to  be  expected  under  the  circumstances. 

Mercedes  had  come  to  know  of  the  conversations  by  moon- 
light. She  had  discovered  that  much  of  the  secret  by  chance. 
Magdalena  was  glad  she  did  know,  as  she  threw  no  obstacle 
in  her  way,  for  she  had  an  aversion  to  concealment. 

There  was  a  strange  contrast  between  the  two  girls  in  those 
days.  Magdalena  was  radiant  in  her  new-found  happiness, 
looking  forward  to  wedded  bliss,  with  little  or  no  more 
thought  of  the  destiny  of  her  soul,  than  if  she  were  a  descend- 
ant of  those  Preadamites  who,  they  tell  us,  were  in  every 
respect  like  other  human  beings  except  that  they  lacked  the 
immortal  part. 

Mercedes  was  sad,  full  of  doubts  and  of  gloomy  apprehen- 
sions of  the  future;  desperately  trying  to  find  consolation  in 
the  thought  of  ministering  to  others,  for  the  terrible  sacrifice 
which  that  privilege  was  to  cost  her;  wondering  if,  after  all, 
that  course  of  conduct  would  secure  her  entrance  into  heaven; 
spending  her  nights  in  prayer  and  penance,  and  by  day  drag- 
ging her  lacerated  body  about  her  ordinary  duties. 

Magdalena's  prospects  made  her,  too,  think  of  marriage. 
Might  she  not  some  time  love  some  one,  some  one  who  loved 
her.  But  for  this  feeling  that  she  must  sacrifice  everything 
to  earn  salvation  it  -might  not  be  necessary  to  pass  through 
life  lonely  and  unloved.  And  so  it  happened  that  Magdalena's 
happiness  caused  her  to  pass  through  a  new  and  in  some 
respects  the  fiercest  struggle  of  all,  before  she  could  say  in 
her  heart:  "I  will  be  a  Sister  of  Charity." 


HOLY  WEEK.  251 


CHAPTER   XXVIL 

HOLY   WEEK 

HOTL.Y  WEEK  came  for  the  privileges  of  which  all  this 
doing  of  penance  and  confessing  of  sins  to  the  priests 
was  done.  The  only  days  that  are  observed  are  Friday  and 
Saturday.  As  the  laws  against  religious  demonstrations  in 
the  open  air  are  regarded  to  some  extent  by  the  public 
officers  in  the  capital,  there  were  few  processions  in  the 
streets.  Dona  Flavia  remarked  to  the  Senor  Bishop,  who 
had  come  to  spend  the  week  in  the  capital,  that  it  was 
melancholy  to  see  how  different  it  was  from  the  way  hi  which 
these  days  were  observed  in  Salta;  and  he  replied  that  there 
was  always  more  true  religion  in  the  small,  out-of-the-way 
towns  than  in  the  great  centers  of  population. 

But  if  the  processions  were  forbidden  in  some  of  the  streets 
of  the  great  city  the  days  were  observed  with  sufficient  zeal 
in  other  ways. 

It  was  a  trying  week  for  Mercedes.  To  make  it  worse  her 
mind  went  back  to  the  *  'Day  of  the  Dead, "  the  2nd  of  Novem- 
ber, which  they  had  observed  in  Mexico,  having  arrived  only 
two  or  three  days  before;  and  she  lived  over  in  her  imagina- 
tion all  those  scenes,  so  excruciating  to  a  sensitive  soul. 

On  that  day  they  went  to  the  Cathedral  and  knelt  in  the 
great  congregation  and  listened  to  the  masses  which  were 
being  said  for  the  repose  of  souls  in  purgatory.  After  they 
left  the  Cathedral  they  went  into  the  plaza  where  the  toys 
peculiar  to  thisjiesta  were  sold.  Everybody  was  very  merry. 
"Here,  Sefioras,"  cried  a  woman  as  they  passed,  "don't  you 
want  to  buy  a  little  corpse  for  the  children  to  play  with?" 
offering  a  coffin,  the  length  of  a  hand,  with  a  corpse  that 
would  fly  up  when  the  coffin  was  pressed.  There  were  tiny 
hearses  with  their  coffins  and  ghastly  corpses  in  grave 


252  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO 

clothes;  there  were  skeletons  for  the  children  to  play  with; 
there  were  skulls,  and  there  was  a  facsimile  of  the  image,  of 
the  soul  in  purgatory  which  they  had  seen  inside  the  Cathe- 
dral on  a  contribution  box,  red  flames,  contortions  and  all — 
with  the  difference  that  this  one  was  made  of  sugar  and  was 
for  the  children  to  eat,  while  that  was  intended  to  secure 
liberal  contributions.  Is  it  strange  that  the  finer  sentiments 
of  Roman  Catholics  should  be  blunted? 

In  the  pantheons  the  graves  were  decorated  with  flowers, 
and  burning  candles  were  placed  on  them.  The  central  foun- 
tain in  the  Alameda.  was  covered  with  flowers  in  the  most 
exquisite  designs,  and  there  the  high  society  of  the  city, 
after  the  ladies  had  visited  the  churches  and  the  pantheons* 
amused  themselves  as  'is  their  wont  during  fiestas. 

Mercedes1  soul  took  up  on  that  day  the  cry  of  all  the  noble' 
souls  who  have  found  themselves  in  that  communion:  "The 
Church  needs  reforming. "  And  now  she  was  to  see  again  the 
ceremonies  of  Holy  Week  in  connection  with  the  Savior's 
death,  with  all  their  attendant  levity.  It  was  with  the  feel- 
ing that  her  teeth  were  already  on  edge  that  she  entered  on 
these  days  of  religious  observance.  There  was  some  comfort, 
in  it  however:  she  was  to  partake  of  that  mystery,  the 
eucharist;  she  was  to  take  into  her  sinful  mouth  the  real 
body  of  the  Lord,  which  was  to  "preserve  her  soul  and  body 
unto  everlasting  life."  If  it  occurred  to  her  how  many  other 
things  she  had  done  according  to  the  prescription  of  the  In- 
fallible Church  which  were  "to  preserve  her  soul  and  body 
unto  everlasting  life,"  she  put  away  the  thought  as  sinful. 
It  was  right  somehow. 

No  bells  were  rung;  the  people  were  called  to  church  by  the 
sound  of  the  matraca,  an  instrument  of  wood  or  metal  which 
makes  a  loud  and  disagreeable  noise.  The  whole  city  re- 
sounded with  the  matracas,  for  every  toy,  expensive  or  cheap, 
that  was  sold  on  those  days  contained  one  of  those  instru- 
ments. 

The  morning  of  Good  Friday  thousands  of  the  common 
people  went  to  the  Floating  Gardens  to  see  the  bearing  of 


HOLY  WEEK.  253 

the  cross  and  the  crucifixion.  During  a  part  of  this  perform- 
ance Pilate  and  others  of  his  court  appeared  on  horseback. 
The  drunkenness,  cursing,  fighting  and  stealing  were  appall- 
ing. The  priests  presided  over  this  performance. 

The  bishop  preached  in  the  morning  at  the  church,  which 
Dona  Flavia  and  her  family  attended,  on  The  Twelve  Sta- 
tions, that  is  the  twelve  pauses  which  the^  say  that  Christ 
made  as  he  bore  his  cross  from  the  judgment  hall  to  Gol- 
gotha. In  the  afternoon,  at  three  o'clock,  he  preached  with 
great  fervency,  owing  to  the  liberal  quantity  of  wine  of 
which  he  had  partaken,  on  the  seven  expressions  of  the  Lord 
on  the  cross.  At  the  end  of  the  sermon,  amid  the  moaning 
of  the  organ,  the  wailing  and  shrieking,  writhing  and  wring- 
ing of  hands  of  the  kneeling  multitude,  the  veil  was  drawn 
from  before  the  crucifix  and  the  image  was  taken  down  and 
borne  to  the  glass  case  in  which  it  was  to  rest  till  the  feast  of 
Corpus  Christi.  By  the  side  of  the  casket  stood  the  Virgin 
Mary,  properly  dressed  in  black,  and  with  an  embroidered 
white  handkerchief  in  her  hand;  and  ever  and  anon  she 
stooped  and  looked  at  the  .body.  There  were  women  in  the 
congregation  who  declared  afterward  that  "for  their  part 
they  believed  there  was  a  hinge  in  the  Virgin's  back,"  that 
is,  they  did  not  believe  that  that  stooping  was  miraculous. 

When  the  people  tired  of  this  bodily  exercise  they  went  out 
into  the  plaza,  and  with  the  tears  still  on  their  cheeks,  and 
laughing  and  talking  in  hoarse  voices  of  balls,  theaters,  bull- 
fights and  other  such  diversions,  they  bought  candies  and 
diverted  themselves  as  if  they  were  at  a  picnic.  • 

Dona  Flavia,  Magdalena  and  Mercedes  wept  and  sobbed 
and  wrung  their  hands  with  the  rest,  but  quietly,  as  refined 
women  will  do,  over  the  good  bishop's  sermon  and  the  cruci- 
fixion. 

Then  came  Saturday,  and  the  tragic  end  of  Judas  Iscariot. 
In  the  afternoon  the  Judases  were  burned.  They  are  made 
in  the  shape  of  a  man,  but  are  as  hideous  as  possible,  often 
having  the  head  of  one  of  the  lower  animals.  Fuse  is  made 
to  run  all  over  them.  They  are  suspended  on  wires  that  are 


254  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

stretched  across  the  streets.  As  it  is  not  now  considered  a 
religious  ceremony  it  is  permitted  that  this  diversion  should 
take  place  in  the  open  air. 

Several  of  these  Judases  were  suspended  across  San  Fran- 
cisco street.  An  immense  crowd  gathered  near  the  first  one; 
they  waited  till  it  exploded  and  then  rushed,  with  screams 
and  frenzied  zeal,  to  trample  on  the  pieces,  to  scramble  for 
the  shoes  or  hat,  which  are  often  new.  and  are  given  by  some 
person  with  the  benevolent  purpose  of  making  the  scrambling 
more  violent.  The  pennies  which  were  thrown  by  the  people 
in  the  balconies  also  added  much  to  the  confusion. 

Jose  Maria  had  invited  his  aunt  and  cousins  to  witness  this 
spectacle  from  one  of  the  balconies  of  the  Iturbide  Hotel. 

On  the  wires  which  had  been  extended  from  this  hotel  to 
the  opposite  building  was  a  large  Judas  on  horseback. 
When  the  sweating,  howling  mob  of  common  people  arrived 
at  this  one  the  fuse  was  lighted.  Horse  and  rider  contracted 
every  limb  as  if  hi  horrible  agony;  they  writhed,  sank,  rose, 
burst,  and  fell;  and  then  the  mob  in  their  rage  against  the 
betrayer  of  the  Lord  rushed  to  trample  on  the  pieces.  Jose 
Maria,  Magdalena  and  the  children  scattered  pennies  on  the 
heads  below. 

"That  is  dreadful,"  said  Dona  Flavia  to  Mercedes,  "I  <am 
afraid  some  one  will  be  crushed  to  death  in  that  crowd." 

But  Mercedes  did  not  hear.  She  was  standing  at  the  cor- 
ner of  the  balcony  looking  down  on  the  crowd.  At  that 
moment  she  had  caught  sight  of  a  young  gentleman  who  was 
standing  near  the  wall,  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  as  if 
he  had  just  stepped  out  from  the  door  of  the  hotel.  She 
should  not  have  noticed  him  but  for  the  fact  that  he  was 
looking  at  her,  had  been  looking  at  her,  it  seemed,  all  the 
time  she  had  been  watching  the  wild  scene  below.  There 
was  a  look  of  hopeless  devotion,  of  reverence,  in  his  face 
which  astonished  and  startled  her,  and  she  turned  quickly 
away.  Where  had  she  seen  that  face?  She  tried  to  recall  it 
among  the  faces  of  all  her  acquaintances.  It  wag  only  after 
days  of  haunting  thought  that  she  remembered  it  as  the 


HOLY  WEEK.  255 

face  of  the  young  gentleman  who  had  picked  up  her  hand- 
kerchief on  Christmas  evening,  and  dimly  connected  it  with 
that  of  the  young  man  who  had  looked  at  her  so  strangely  hi 
the  art  gallery. 

As  I  have  said  Mercedes  was  comforted  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  shocking  scenes  of  this  week  by  the  thought  that  she  was 
to  receive  the  eucharist.  It  was  with  much  awe  that  she 
arose  from  her  place  in  the  kneeling  congregation,  and, 
advancing  to  the  railing  of  the  altar,  knelt  and  put  out  her 
tongue  to  receive  on  it  the  tiny  wafer  from  the  priest's  con- 
secrated hand;  for  his  voice  was  exhorting  her  to  believe  that 
this  was  not  only  the  true  body  of  Christ,  and  all  that  per- 
tained to  the  undivided  integrity  of  the  body,  such  as  bones, 
nerves  and  blood,  but  also  that  all  of  Christ  was  in  this  sac- 
rament, the  divine  and  human  natures,  and  all  that  pertained 
to  both  of  these  natures.  And  not  only  that  all  of  this  was  in 
the  consecrated  bread  and  wine,  but  that  all  of  it  was  in  each 
particle  of  it,  so  that  in  that  tiny  bit  of  bread  on  her  tongue 
were  contained  all  the  things  that  have  been  enumerated. 
And,  furthermore,  that  notwithstanding  the  testimony  of 
taste,  sight  and  smell,  there  was  nothing  left  of  the  nature 
of  bread  in  it. 

And  besides  all  this  he  assured  her  that  her  soul  was  to  be 
comforted,  and  was  to  grow  with  this  divine  food,  that 
through  it  all  slight  past  sins  were  to  be  pardoned;  she  was 
to  be  preserved  from  committing  future  skis,  and  that  it  was 
to  open  to  her  the  doors  of  eternal  glory.  1 

She  swallowed  the  wafer,  making  a  desperate  effort  to  be- 
lieve all  that  she  had  heard,  as  she  arose  and  moved  away 
from  the  altar.  But  in  the  depths  of  her  soul  she  knew  that 
this  communion  had  no  more  conferred  on  her  a  title  to 
heaven  than  had  her  baptism,  or  her  confirmation,  or  the 
thousand  indulgences  that  she  had  purchased  in  one  way  or 
another. 

"One  thing  after  another  turns  to  bitter  ashes  in  my 
mouth,"  she  said  sadly.  "It  must  be  because  I  lack  faith." 

lNote. — These  declarations  about  the  eucharist  are  from  the  Decrees 
of  the  Council  of  Trent,  the  highest  authority  among  Roman  Catholics. 


256  MERCEDES,'  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Dona  Flavia  and  the  bishop  were  naturally  delighted  that 
Mercedes  was  to  become  a  Sister  of  Charity.  The  latter  re- 
peated to  her  much  of  Cardinal  Gibbon's  eloquent  description 
of  the  life  of  a  Sister  of  Charity,  and  Mercedes  was  more  im- 
patient than  ever  to  enter  on  so  heroic  a  life. 

"It  is  a  great  pity  that  there  are  no  convents  in  Mexico 
now  as  there  used  to  be,"  observed  the  Senor  Bishop  one  day 
as  he  and  his  hostess  discussed  this  subject  in  the  presence 
of  Mercedes.  "But,  as  it  is,  she  will  have  to  go  to  another 
country  to  take  the  veil.  I  think  it  would  be  best  for  her  to 
go  to  the  United  States. " 

"I — I  thought,"  stammered  Mercedes,  surprised  and  con- 
fused, '  'that  our  legislators  considered  it  best  for  the  country 
somehow  that  there  should  be  no  convents  here,  and  that  it 
was  for  that  reason  they  were  abolished." 

Dark  clouds  had  gathered  on  the  brows  of  the  Senor  Bishop 
and  his  religious  hostess.  So  insulting  is  it  to  mention  the 
law  to  zealous  Catholics! 

"They  are  not  permitted  by  the  impious  laws  of  the  land," 
replied  the  Senor  Bishop.  And  then  he  added,  as  if  to  him- 
self: "If  we  could  only  have  them  in  spite  of  the  laws!" 

"But  is  it  not  wrong  to  disobey  the  laws  of  one's  country?" 
asked  Mercedes,  betrayed  by  her  astonishment  into  still 
greater  boldness  of  speech. 

Darker  grew  the  clouds  on  the  faces  before  her;  the 
bishop's  eyes  flashed  lightning,  and  Mercedes  thought  Dona 
Flavia  was  going  to  order  her  to  leave  the  room.  "I  dare 
her  to  do  it!"  she  exclaimed  mentally,  though  she  did  not  add 
the  penalty  which  would  accompany  such  a  breach  of  respect 
for  herself.  "She  is  a  lady  I  have  no  great  liking  for  any- 
how— and  the  bishop — I  don't  even  know  about  him  now. " 

But  they  composed  themselves,  and  the  bishop,  after  mut- 
tering something  angrily  between  his  teeth,  went  on  discuss- 
ing the  subject  of  where  she  was  to  go  without  taking  fur- 
ther notice  of  her  question. 

After  that  incident  Mercedes  fell  into  the  habit  of  watching 
the  Senor  Bishop  very  closely.  There  were  still  other  things 


HOLY  WEEK.  257 

in  the  conduct  of  this  worthy  representative  of  the  Church 
that  greatly  puzzled  and  troubled  her.  Instead  of  devoting 
her  nights  to  penance  and  prayer  she  spent  them  in  the  con- 
sideration of  these  new  doubts,  which  were  yet  only  the 
revival  of  old  doubts. 

The  elegant,  the  good  Senor  Bishop  had  so  little  respect 
for  the  laws, of  the  land  in  which  he  lived  that  it  was  an  in- 
sult to  mention  them  to  him.  He  had  told  a  falsehood  one 
day  in  her  presence  and  evidently  without  the  least  scruples 
of  conscience.  There  was  no  doubt  that  Dona  Flavia  had 
been  prompted  by  his  remarks  on  Masonry  and  his  counsels 
to  have  recourse  to  the  "black  saint"  for  the  removal  of  her 
husband;  and  last,  but  certainly  not  least,  she  had  more  than 
once  known  of  his  being  more  than  half  intoxicated. 

Now  she  would  be  guilty  of  none  of  these  things  herself. 
Could  she  confess  to  such  a  man  and  receive  absolution  from 
his  hands?  Could  she  take  for  her  spiritual  guide  a  person 
who  was  worse  than  she  was? 

But  worst  of  it  all  was  that  he  was  considered  by  all  one  of 
the  best  of  his  class; — then  what  kind  of  men  were  the  rest? 

Dofia  Flavia  had  sometimes  said  to  her  that  when  she  be- 
came a  nun  one  of  her  principal  occupations  and  pleasures 
would  be  to  confess.  That  had  surprised  her,  for  she  had 
thought  that  her  principal  occupation  would  be  to  minister  to 
the  distressed.  She  turned  with  horror  from  the  thought  of 
confessing  to  such  priests. 

Maximiliana  had  said  to  her  one  day,  quietly,  sadly,  like, 
one  who  utters  words  with  no  hope  of  their  making  an  im- 
pression,  "Mercedes,  child,  you  don't  know  where  you  are 
drifting." 

She  had  turned  toward  her  friend  a  ghastly  face  with  a 
momentary  realization  of  her  danger  and  exclaimed:  "Maxi- 
miliana, am  I  standing  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice?" 

'  4Yes,  that  is  just  where  you  are  standing.  May  God  draw 
you  back." 

And  so  it  was  that  through  the  lonely  nights  her  discon 
nee  ted  thoughts  went  all  tending  toward  one  resolution:  She 
17 


258  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

would  never  again  confess;  therefore  she  could  never  be  a. 
nun — a  Sister  of  Charity. 

The  day  came  when  she  announced  her  change  of  mind  to 
Dona  Flavia  and  the  bishop,  braving  their  wrath  and  the 
prospect  of  being  sent  from  the  house.  She  gave  them  few 
reasons;  but  one  of  them  was  sufficient:  She  thought  she 
4  'could  be  a  better  woman  by  not  being  a  Sister  of  Charity. " 

After  she  left  the  room  and  they  had  discussed  the  ques- 
tion at  length,  they  decided  that  there  might  be  hope  for  the 
girl  yet;  they  would  have  patience  with  her. 

That  very  afternoon  Mercedes  went  to  Maximiliana's  house, 
and  went  hi  and  fell  down  on  her  knees  by  her  side,  and  clung 
to  her,  as  great  sobs  tore  themselves  out  of  her  throat.  "O! 
Maximiliana,  I  will  never,  never  be  a  Sister  of  Charity.  I 
have  been  so  blinded,"  she  said. 

Maximiliana  put  her  arms  closely  about  her  and  cried  with 
her.  And  presently  Tomas  came  in  and  heard  the  story  and 
rejoiced  with  them. 

"O!  I  feel  free  as  a  bird!  It  was  dreadful,  dreadful  to  think 
of  3uch  a  life  anyhow;  and  now  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been 
snatched  back  from  the  brink  of  a  terrible  abyss." 

'  'The  more  you  examine  them  the  more  you  will  be  con- 
vinced that  the  teachings  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  are 
false  and  degrading,"  said  Tomas,  kindly. 

"I  believe  it — I  begin  to  believe  it,"  replied  Mercedes. 


A  LAST  LOOK  AT  HER  WINDOW.  259 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  LAST  LOOK  AT  HER  WINDOW. 

|NE  day  Teodoro  Martinez,  descending  one  of  the  hand- 
some stairways  of  the  Palacio  Municipal,  saw  the  tall, 
slender  figure,  and  thin,  kindly  face  of  the  Director  of  the 
college  coming  up.  They  embraced,  and  then  the  Director 
said: 

*  'I  was  coining  up  to  talk  with  you  a  few  minutes,  Teodoro. 
If  you  are  going  out  we  can  talk  as  well  in  the  street  as  here, 
and  better." 

When  they  were  in  the  street  he  turned  a  radiant  face  to 
the  young  man,  and  rubbing  his  hands  with  pleasure,  said: 

"I  have  a  magnificent  chance  for  you,  my  son.  I  could 
scarcely  wait  till  after  school  hours  to  tell  you  of  it." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Sir.  What  is  it?"  replied  Teodoro. 
trying  to  arouse  himself  to  interest  and  gratitude.  He  had 
had  a  feeling  all  these  last  weeks  that  it  made  little  differ- 
ence what  became  of  him;  he  could  not  save  his  family;  he 
could  not  win  the  girl  he  loved. 

'  'I  received  a  letter  this  morning  from  a  friend  of  mine  in 
one  of  the  northern  States,  asking  me  to  furnish  him  a  com- 
petent teacher  for  the  school  hi  his  place.  The  patronage 
will  be  good,  he  says,  and  the  salary  is  good.  Now  what 
better  could  a  young  man  of  your  abilities  and  tastes  desire? 
You  might  even  in  time  become  superintendent  of  public  in- 
struction for  the  State."  And  the  kind-hearted  Director 
rubbed  his  hands  vigorously  hi  his  delight. 

'  'I  should  have — should  have  to  leave  the  city,  and  not  re- 
turn for  months,  for  years,  perhaps,"  stammered  Teodoro. 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  saying,  but  feeling  the  neces- 
sity of  speaking. 

"Yes,  my  son,"  said  the  Director,  looking  at  him  curiously, 


260  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"but  why  should  you  mind  that?    It  is  not  so  interesting  a 
place,  not  so  large,  nor  so  handsome  a  place,  of  course,  but — 

"O,  it  is  not  that,  Sir,"  said  Teodoro,  interrupting  him 
hastily.  "It's  nothing,  only  there  are  people  here  whom  it 
would  be  hard  to  leave;  that  is  all.  I  will  go,  of  course.  I 
am  very  grateful  to  you."  And  he  hoped  the  Director  would 
think  it  was  himself  and  some  of  his  schoolfellows  whom  it 
was  hard  to  leave. 

"Teodoro,"  said  the  teacher  gently,  laying  his  hand  on  the 
young  man's  arm,  "it  is  natural  for  you  to  feel  some  regret 
at  leaving  your  parents  .and  the  others.  But  it  is  better  to 
do  so.  For  that  very  reason  I  have  rejoiced  the  more  that 
this  opportunity  is  offered  you  in  a  distant  town.  I  know  of 
your  efforts  to  save  them,  my  boy.  It  is  noble  of  you,  and  I 
.am  glad  that  you  have  it  in  your  heart  to  do  it.  But  it's  of 
no  use;  you  can't  do  anything  with  them.  It  is  better  for 
you  to  leave  them  and  make  a  man  of  yourself." 

"I  know  that,  Sir.  I  was  not  thinking  of  them.  I  have 
done  all  I  can  for  them,  at  present,  at  least.  I've  tried  for 
years,  but  I've  had  to  give  them  up  at  last.  I — I  was  think- 
ing of  some  one  else;  but  it's  no  matter.  It's  a  mere  fancy, 
and  there  is  no  hope  in  it.  You  won't  say  anything  about  it, 
please,"  said  Teodoro,  not  supposing  that  many  other  young 
men  of  twenty-one  guarded  a  tremendous  secret  of  unre- 
quited love. 

"I  appreciate  your  speaking  of  it  to  me,  my  son.  But  if 
there  is  no  hope  in  it  it  is  best  to  go  away. "  But  the  sensible 
philosophy  of  age  was  chilling,  as  it  always  is,  to  young 
hearts. 

"When  shall  I  go?"  asked  Teodoro  very  quietly. 

1  'I  think  it  would  be  well  to  go  as  soon  as  possible  to  look 
after  the  school;  say  the  first  of  next  week." 

"Very  well,  Sir;  I  shall  make  my  arrangements  accord- 
ingly. I  cannot  express  my  gratitude  to  you  for  your  kind- 
ness. It  is  just  like  you.  I  owe  everything  to  you,"  he  said 
in  a  choking  voice. 

"Tush,  my  boy.    It  isn't  worth  mentioning.    But  I  am  very 


A  LAST  LOOK  AT  HER  WINDOW.  261 

proud  of  you.  You  have  made  a  man  of  yourself,  notwith- 
standing the  obstacles.  <  By  the  way,  the  Sefiora  Directora 
told  me  to  ask  you  to  dine  with  us  to-morrow,  and  we  shall 
expect  you  to  stay  for  the  little  musical  entertainment  after- 
ward. You  will  come?" 

"Yes,  Senor;  many  thanks." 

"Well,  adios." 

"Adios,  Senor.     Salutations  for  the  Sefiora." 

And  the  Director  went  on  his  way,  smiling,  but  with  pity 
in  his  heart,  as  he  thought: 

'  'Poor  boy !  He  feels  like  it  is  all  over  with  him.  It  hurts 
while  it  lasts,  of  course,  but  he'll  get  over  it,  and  all  the 
sooner  for  being  in  a  new  place.  We  all  have  to  have  these 
ups  and  downs.  How  many  Dulcineas  had  I  been  broken 
hearted  over  before  I  met  Julia.  But  after  I  met  her  I  was 
glad  I  couldn't  win  the  others.  He'll  get  over  it." 

Teodoro  went  home  and  left  his  supper  untasted,  and  sat, 
with  his  elbows  on  the  table  and  his  head  on  his  hands,  so 
long  that  the  good  woman  who  prepared  his  meals  was  dis- 
tressed with  the  thought  that  "the  Senor"  must  be  sick. 

After  awhile  he  put  on  his  hat  and  went  out.  He  would  go 
and  look  at  her  window  for  the  last  time.  He  had  indulged 
himself  in  that  way  several  times  hi  these  weeks.  Twice  he 
had  stood  out  there  in  the  rain,  with  a  borrowed  umbrella 
over  him,  looking  at  Dona  Flavia's  window.  He  had  said  to 
himself  every  time  that  it  would  be  more  sensible  to  be  at 
home  studying;  but  no  doubt  there  have  been  times  in  the 
lives  of  the  wisest  men  when,  under  the  influence  of  such 
feelings  as  Teodoro's,  they  have  failed  to  obey  the  dictates 
of  common  sense. 

It  was  all  over  now,  he  knew;  he  should  never  be  happy 
any  more.  He  had  never  had  any  hope  of  happiness  from  it, 
of  course,  he  had  only  been  indulging  in  foolish  daydreams, 
and  even  they  would  have  been  insulting  to  the  young  lady. 

Realizing  this  he  need  not  have  taken  'such  a  terrible 
heartache  over  a  communication  which  Hernandez  had  made 
to  him  a  few  days  before.  He  had  met  his  good-natured, 


262  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"democratic"  classmate  in  the  Plaza  de  Armas,  and  had,  at 
his  invitation,  "given  a  turn"  with  him,  listening  to  the  music 
of  a  band.  After  some  conversation  about  indifferent  matters 
Felipe  had  said: 

"Have  you  seen  Ortega  since  he  came  back?" 

"No,  I  thought  he  was  studying  at  some  university  in 
France." 

"He  study!  Not  much  of  it.  He  completed  the  course 
over  there  very  soon.  He  was  in  a  university  a  few  months, 
and  to  hear  him  tell  it  he  did  wonders,  and  astonished  all  the 
professors  by  his  attainments.  But  he  spent  the  rest  of  the 
time  traveling  or  amusing  himself  in  Paris.  It  is  really  edi- 
fying to  hear  him  express  his  contempt  for  everything  in 
Mexico,  now,  and  contrast  it  with  Paris." 

"What  is  he  going  to  do  now?  Devote  himself  to  politics? 
or  look  after  that  hacienda  of  his  that  he  used  to  ,tell  us 
about?  I  don't  suppose,  though,  he  would  do  that." 

"No.  I  don't  know  what  he  will  do.  Nothing,  I  suppose; 
he  is  rich  enough  to  live  without  work.  He  is  in  love  now; 
of  course,  nothing  is  to  be  expected  of  him  till  he  gets  over 
that.  It  is  all  arranged,  he  says.  He  will  have  a  good  deal 
more  property  after  he  gets  her,  for  her  father,  Don  Fran- 
cisco Urbina,  is  rich." 

Teodoro  started,  but  Felipe  had  turned  away  to  light  a 
cigarette,  and  did  not  notice  it. 

"Which  one  of  Sefior  Urbina' s  daughters  is  he  going  to 
marry?" 

"The  eldest  one.  Quite  a  fine  girl  she  is;  worth  the  win- 
ning if  she  were  not  so  rich.  I  have  seen  her  a  few  times  at 
balls  and  such  places.  Jose  Maria  always  was  a  lucky  fellow. " 

This  communication  had  added  new  gloom  to  Teodoro's 
reflections.  It  was  a  bitter  thought  to  him  that  the  enemy  of 
his  school  days,  who  had  often  stabbed  him  in  cold  blood, 
stooping  over  him,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  with  his  handsome, 
«  smiling  face,  to1  turn  the  knife  in  his  heart — it  was  a  very 
bitter  thought  that  this  enemy  should  win  the  girl  he  loved. 
"He  is  not  half  good  enough  for  her.  How  could  she  like 


A  LAST  LOOK  AT  HER  WINDOW.  263 

Mm!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  she  doesn't  know  him.  Ten  to 
one  she  will  be  miserable  with  him  when  she  gets  acquainted 
with  him.  But  it  will  be  too  late  then. " 

As  he  went  along  thinking  thus  with  himself  he  had  ap- 
proached quite  near  to  the  house  of  the  lady  of  his  thoughts. 
Looking  at  the  casket  which  held  that  jewel  he  had  not 
noticed  that  some  one  was  approaching  him.  It  was  Jose 
Maria  Ortega.  They  met  in  the  white  radiance  of  an  electric 
light. 

"Ah!  Good  evening,  Martinez,"  he  said,  without  offering 
his  hand.  From  what  he  had  heard  from  Hernandez  he 
thought  there  was  danger  of  this  fellow's  becoming  presump- 
tuous. Somebody  must  check  him.  Such  duties  devolved 
on  men  of  Jose  Maria's  position;  and  he  believed  he  could 
perform  such  public  services  more  gracefully  and  more 
efficiently  than  most  men;  it  was  a  duty,  moreover,  from 
which  he  never  shrank.  He  was  a  little  surprised,  too,  to  see 
him  there  gazing  at  that  house. 

"Good  evening,  Ortega,"  replied  Teodoro. 

"Pine  night,  isn't  it? — for  lovers  especially.  Have  you  set 
your  heart  on  some  pretty  chambermaid  over  there  that  you 
come  out  to  watch  the  house?"  and  he  looked  at  Teodoro  with 
the  same  expression  on  his  face  with  which  he  used  to  insult 
him  at  schbol.  Teodoro  involuntarily  clinched  his  fist  and 
half  raised  it.  He  longed  to  strike  him  a  blow  in  the  face  and 
leave  him  lying  full  length  in  the  mud  of  the  street.  But 
there  was  no  danger  of  his  actually  striking;  there  was 
nothing  of  the  brute  in  him.  He  dropped  his  hand,  and  look- 
ing full  into  the  face  before  him,  with  his  own  white  with 
rage  and  scorn,  exclaimed: 

"Jose  Maria  Ortega,  I  hope  I  may  never  see  your  face 
again  while  I  live!" 

The  young  gentleman  addressed,  bowing  and  smiling  as  he 
tossed  the  cape  of  his  cloak  over  his  shoulder  so  that  the 
crimson  plush  lining  set  off  his  complexion,  replied  care- 
lessly : 

"Adios,  then,  and  my  regards  to  the  Sefiora,  mother  of 


264  MERCEDES,   A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

your  Worship, "  and  crossed  the  street  to  the  gate,  which  was 
quickly  opened  by  some  one  inside,  and  then  shut  behind 
him.  Teodoro  went  back  to  his  room  and  sat,  with  his 
elbows  on  the  table  and  his  head  on  his  hands,  far  into  the 
night. 

A  half  an  hour  before  this  encounter  in  the  street  took 
place,  Magdalena  had  entered  Mercedes'  room,  dressed  as  if 
for  a  party. 

*  'Mercedes, "  she  said  in  a  happy  whisper,  and  with  a  look 
of  great  mystery,  as  she  knelt  beside  her,  "I  have  something 
to  tell  you,  but  you  must  keep  it  from  mama,  will  you?" 

"I  don't  know,  Magdalena.  I'm  afraid  it  isn't  right  to  be 
keeping  things  from  your  mama  this  way." 

"O,  Mercedes,  it's  not  wrong.  I've  no  doubt  mama  did  just 
the  same  way  when  she  was  in  love  with  papa.  She  just  says 
it's  ugly  now  because  she  thinks  it  is  prudent  to  say  that  be- 
fore us  girls. " 

"What  is  it  you  are  going  to  tell  me,  Magdalena?"  asked 
Mercedes  anxiously. 

4 'I  promised  Jose  Maria  to  meet  him  in  the  garden  to-night, 
under  the  vine,  just  outside  the  dining  room  door.  The  serv- 
ants are  gone,  so  they  won't  hear  us  talk.  But  I  wanted 
some  one  to  know  about  it;  I  can't  bear  to  keep  things.  And 
you  are  another  girl;  you  can  understand  how  I  feel  about 
it,"  she  added  pleadingly. 

"Magdalena,  you  are  sweet  and  good,"  replied  Mercedes, 
putting  her  arms  around  her,  "but  you  ought  not  to  meet  him 
secretly.  You  and  he  can  talk  in  the  balls." 

"O,  the  balls!"  said  Magdalena.  "We  are  never  alone  for 
one  instant  in  the  balls.  He  asked  me  to  meet  him  in  the 
garden,  and  I  promised,  Mercedes.  How  can  I  disappoint 
him!  You  wouldn't  if  you  were  in  my  place!"  and  Magdalena 
put  her  arms  around  Mercedes'  neck  and  dropped  her  head 
on  her  shoulder  with  something  very  like  a  sob. 

"Magdalena,"  said  Mercedes  at  last,  "if  you  will  stay  with 
him  just  a  half  hour — 

"O,  Mercedes,  such  a  short  time!  Just  think  of  it!  I'll  stay 
just  an  hour." 


A  LAST  LOOK  AT  HER  WINDOW.  265 

"But  it  isn't  right,  Magdalena.  Now  promise  me,  just  a 
half  hour;  then  I'll  make  a  noise  at  the  window,  and  you  can 
come  in.  And  then  I  won't  say  anything  about  it.  But  don't 
promise  to  meet  him  in  the  garden  any  more;  please  don't, 
Magdalena. " 

"O,  well,  I  promise  not  to  stay  but  a  half  hour.  But  it  is 
cruel  of  you  not  to  let  me  have  more  time;"  and  she  tripped 
out  of  the  room  to  listen  for  the  low  whistle  which  was  to 
summon  her  to  the  side  of  her  lover. 

Mercedes  listened,  too,  and  after  she  heard  it  she  timed 
them  by  the  little  school  clock.  At  the  end  of  the  time  she 
slipped  out  and  along  a  corridor  till  she  came  to  a  window 
which  was  just  above  their  heads;  then  she  thumped  loudly  on 
the  glass.  But  when  she  went  to  the  window  fifteen  minutes 
later,  there  in  the  shadow  of  the  vines  in  the  checkered  moon- 
light, still  stood  the  tall  dark  figure,  and  the  slender  grace- 
ful one  in  the  light  dress  and  the  snowy  opera  cloak.  She 
knocked  again  on  the  window  and  watched  till  she  saw  Mag- 
dalena start  away  from  him,  while  he  held  her  hands  and 
kissed  them  two  or  three  times. 

When  she  knocked  the  first  time  Jose  Maria  was  saying  to 
her,  gayly: 

"I  had  a  little  adventure  in  the  street  awhile  ago.  I  met  a 
fellow  out  there  in  front  of  the  house  who  used  to  be  in  the 
same  school  with  me.  He  was  a  curiosity;  he  was  always 
dressed  so  shabbily.  In  fact  he  was  one  of  the  Indians  whom 
you  see  in  the  streets  carrying  burdens  on  their  backs.  His 
mother!  she  was  one  of  the  most  ridiculous  looking  creatures 
you  ever  saw.  She  used  to  sell  vegetables  near  the  college, 
and  he  actually  carried  them  out  there  to  the  street  for  her 
as  he  came  to  school,''  and  Jose  Maria  paused  to  laugh  at  the 
recollection. 

Magdalena  laughed,  too,  just  because  Jose  Maria  did,  but 
she  said  in  a  puzzled  and  timid  way:  "But  wasn't  it  good  of 
him  to  carry  them  for  his  mother?  She  was  his  mother,  you 
know,  no  matter  how  she  looked. " 

"O,  yes,  he  was  no  better  than  she  was,  of  course;  but  you 


266  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

ought  to  have  seen  what  a  grotesque-looking  couple  they 
were!  But  the  Director  was  a  cranky  old  fellow,  and  he  some- 
how carried  that  beggar  clear  through  the  course  of  the  col- 
lege. And  now  that  he  has  a  sort  of  education  and  wears 
good  clothes  his  presumption  is  intolerable.  He  was  really 
insulting  to  me  awhile  ago. " 

"How  was  it?"  asked  Magdalena  in  an  indignant  tone. 

"He  was  staring  at  the  windows  of  this  house,  and  I  asked 
him  if  he  was  thinking  of  some  one  of  the  servant  girls  here, 
and  he  actually  clinched  his  fist  as  if  he  wanted  to  strike  me, 
and  said  he  hoped  he  might  never  see  my  face  again.  Think 
what  impudence!" 

"It  was  very  ugly  of  him  to  talk  so,"  replied  the  gentle 
Magdalena.  "What  is  his  name?" 

"Teodoro  Martinez.  I've  seen  somebody  hanging  around 
the  street  several  nights,  looking  up  at  the  windows,  and 
since  I  think  of  it  I  know  it  was  he.  I  wonder  what  he  can 
be  after?"  and  there  the  subject  dropped. 

After  he  was  gone  Magdalena  again  entered  Mercedes' 
room,  flushed  wfch  happiness. 

"How  could  you  make  me  come  up  so  soon?"  she  said, 
gayly.  '  'I  would  have  come  when  you  tapped  the  first  time, 
but  Jose  Maria  was  telling'me  something,"  and  she  repeated 
the  story  to  Mercedes. 

"I've  been  thinking  of  the  name  ever  since,"  she  went  on 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  narrative.  "Do  you  remember  a 
young  man  who  came  here  to  see  papa  Christmas  evening, 
and  stayed  a  good  while  looking  at  the  games,  and  picked  up 
your  handkerchief?  Well,  his  name  was  Teodoro  Martinez. 
I  remember  it  distinctly;  I  asked  papa  after  he  left;  and  he 
said  that  Don  Eduardo  Recio  had  recommended  him  to  him 
for  a  secretary.  And  Don  Eduardo  was  Jose  Maria's  teacher 
here;  I  have  heard  him  mention  him  often.  So  I  know  that 
the  young  man  who  was  ugly  to  Jose  Maria  in  the  street  was 
that  very  one.  I  am  glad  papa  didn't  employ  him.  Well, 
good  night.  I  must  go  now  and  try  to  recall  everything  Jose 
Maria  said  to  me."  • 


A  LAST  LOOK  AT  HER  WINDOW.  267 

After  she  was  gone  Mercedes  sat  a  long  time  in  her  low 
chair,  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  head  on  her  hands, 
thinking  of  what  Magdalena  had  told  her.  It  was  a  revela- 
tion to  her.  Even  if  she  had  never  heard  again  of  the  young 
man  whom  she  had  seen  in  the  gallery  she  should  sometimes 
have  thought  of  him,  recollecting  that  look  of  soul  recogni- 
tion, and  should  have  wondered  vaguely  where  he  was  and 
hoped  it  was  well  with  him;  but  remembering  the  expression 
on  his  face  when  she  saw  him  from  the  balcony  on  Saturday 
of  Holy  Week,  she  could  not  doubt  that  it  was  on  her  account 
lie  haunted  the  street  and  watched  the  house.  Whatever 
ideas  he  had  of  her  he  had  gotten  them  at  the  gallery.  She 
tried  to  recall  every  word. 

"It  must  have  been  because  the  tears  came  into  my  eyes 
when  that  gentleman  said  that  beautiful  thing  about  the 
artist,  Sefior  Ramon  Sagredo.  I  understand,  now.  The  young 
man  has  been  very  poor,  and  he  is  now,  I  suppose,  and  he 
thinks  I  have  sympathy  for  the  poor.  Well,  I  have  reason  to 
have.  But  how  lonely  and  destitute  of  sympathy  his  life 
must  be  that  he  should  care  for  that  little  expression  from  a 
common,  ignorant  girl!  He  must  be  noble  and  good  to  be  so 
kind  to  his  mother.  I  dare  say  Jose  Maria  was  insulting  to 
him.  He  is  rich  and  proud  and  doesn't  know  how  to  treat 
poor  people.  Teodoro  Martinez — he  has  a  good  face;  I  re- 
member it  well.  It  is  all  very  curious!"  And  from  that  night 
that  face  was  remembered  with  more  distinctness  and  with 
the  tender,  pitiful  thoughts  that  each  of  us  has  of  those  whom 
he  knows  are  lonely  and  in  need  of  sympathy,  and  especially 
of  those  who,  he  knows,  care  for  his  sympathy. 

But  she  had  other  and  more  important  things  to  think  of. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  because  she  had  realized  that 
she  could  never  again  confess,  and  therefore  could  never  be 
a  nun,  that  she  turned  against  all  of  Roman  Catholicism  at 
once.  Her's  was  a  slower  and  surer  nature. 

But  the  scales  had  fallen  from  her  eyes,  and  as  the  weeks 
passed  she  studied  the  Catholic  religion  in  a  new  light,  with 
the  help  of  Tomas  and  Maximiliana,  whom  she  occasionally 


268  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

visited.  Often  she  slipped  books  into  her  room,  and  keeping- 
them  hid  during  the  day,  read  at  night  the  passages  which 
Tomas  had  marked  for  her  perusal.  They  were  generally 
histories,  and  the  marked  passages  showed  the  influence  of 
Roman  Catholicism  on  the  nations.  Especially  did  she  learn 
of  its  degrading  influence  in  Mexico. 

She  did  not  study  it  in  the  light  of  the  Bible.  They  had 
none  to  lend  her;  they  scarcely  thought,  if  at  all,  of  the  Word 
of  God  in  connection  with  it.  They  offered  her  no  religion 
in  the  place  of  the  one  they  were  taking  from  her.  Unlike 
her  they  did  not  feel  the  necessity  of  a  religion.  But  in  their 
own  way  they  helped  her  not  a  little,  toward  the  attainment 
of  freedom. 

Nevertheless,  she  decided  the  question  for  herself.  Night 
after  night  she  sat,  with  her  hands  clasped  so  tightly  that  the 
blood  stopped  in  the  finger  tips,  and  the  perspiration  stood 
on  her  girlish  forehead,  as  she  tried  to  settle  that — to  her — 
so  difficult  question:  "Is  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  the 
true  religion?" 

There  went  on  in  her  mind  a  fierce  dialogue  of  insinuating* 
questions  and  defiant  answers: 

"I  would  rather  have  no  religion  than  a  false  one.  If  the 
Creator  should  give  a  religion  to  his  creatures  it  would  be 
one  that  would  make  them  better  and  happier.  We  believe 
that  instinctively.  We  can  not  separate  the  idea  of  benevo- 
lence from  the  Creator.  But  how  do  we  know  that  our  in- 
stinctive beliefs  are  correct?  We  receive  them  directly  from 
the  Creator;  if  they  are  wrong  it  is  not  our  fault.  But,  after 
all,  how  do  we  know  that  there  is  a  Creator,  or  even  that  we 
exist?  How  can  we  be  certain  of  anything?" 

With  a  terrible  struggle  she  would  fight  back  this  sugges- 
tion, and  her  spirit  would  grasp  again  its  belief  that  there 
was  a  God.  And  always,  inevitably,  she  went  back  to  the 
consideration  of  that  fact  that  has  been  fatal  to  the  Romish 
Church  in  the  minds  of  so  many  other  people,  of  most  Mexi- 
can men  of  education,  of  some  Mexican  women  even — that 
the  religion  that  the  Creator  would  give  would  make  people 


A  LAST  LOOK  AT  HER  WINDOW.  269 

better  and  happier;  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  had  not  done 
that;  therefore  it  was  not  the  true  religion. 

That  settled  the  question  in  Mercedes'  mind  at  last.  The 
day  came  when  she  said  to  them,  speaking  from  her  heart, 
"I  give  it  all  up.  I  am  no  Roman  Catholic." 

That  same  day,  with  a  terribly  desolate  feeling  in  her  soul, 
she  knelt  by  her  bed,  and  stretching  out  her  arms  across  it, 
dropped  her  head  between  them  and  repeated  the  "Our 
Father,  which  art  in  heaven."  But  the  heavens  were  like 
brass  above  her;  she  knew  the  prayer  was  riot  heard;  she 
knew,  as  she  arose  from  her  knees,  that  there  was  some 
preparation  of  soul  needed  before  she  could  approach  the 
great  King;  but  she  did  not  know  what  that  preparation  was, 
and  she  had  no  hope  of  being  able  to  make  it.  There  was 
even,  away  down  in  her  heart,  unacknowledged  by  herself, 
an  unwillingness  to  make  that  preparation. 


270  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   TWO   MARRIAGES. 

IT  was  arranged  that  Jose  Maria's  and  Magdalena's  mar- 
riage should  take  place  soon  after  their  return  home. 

As  I  have  intimated  there  were  reasons  why  both  Don 
Francisco  and  Dona  Flavia  objected  to  Jose  Maria  as  a  son- 
in-law.  The  latter  objected  because  he  was  a*  Mason.  He 
had  joined  that  fraternity,  not  because  of  any  appreciation  of 
the  liberal  principles  which  they  inculcated,  but  because,  as 
the  president  of  the  republic  and  other  prominent  men  were 
Masons,  it  was  popular  to  be  a  Mason.  When  he  found  that 
it  stood  in  the  way  of  his  marriage  he  withdrew  from  them, 
with  the  distinct  understanding  in  his  own  mind  that  he  would 
return  to  them  as  soon  as  his  marriage  was  consummated.  I 
have  heard,  however,  that  the  Masons  were  so  unreasonable 
and  obstinate  as  to  refuse  to  receive  him  again. 

Don  Francisco  objected  to  him  because  he  was  a  member  of 
the  Clerical  party,  or  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  the  Conserva- 
tive party.  But  he  managed  to  quiet  his  uncle's  scruples  as 
to  his  politics  by  intimating  that  he  thought  very  favorably 
indeed  of  the  Liberal  party;  that,  in  fact,  it  was  very  prob- 
able that  he  would  cast  his  vast  influence  on  that  side  as  soon 
as  he  should  have  studied  their  principles  a  little  more. 

Mercedes,  too,  had  reasons  of  her  own  for  having  some- 
humble  scruples  about  the  approaching  marriage. 

She  had  a  high  opinion  of  Jose  Maria.  It  is  not  to  be  sup-; 
posed  that  she  was  acquainted  with  several  of  the  character- 
istics to  which,  as  a  historian,  I  ha\je  called  the  attention  of ' 
the  reader,  such  as  conceit,  insincerity,  and  an  overbearing 
disposition.  In  fact  it  is  rather  appalling  to  the  historian 
himself  to  see  the  cold,  hard  words  written;  just  as  it  would 
be  disagreeably  startling  to  hear  various  characteristics  of 


THE   TWO   MARRIAGES.  271 

his  own  or  of  his  intimate  friends  expressed  by  their  most 
concise  names.  It  would  be  unjust,  too,  would  it  not?  for, 
along  with  the  unpleasant  qualities  are  often  found  good  ones 
which  go  far  toward  counterbalancing  them.  Jose  Maria 
was  benevolent  in  his  careless,  high-bred  way;  and  it  even 
sometimes  happened  that  he  gave  to  the  poor  without  any 
thought  of  the  connection  between  such  acts  and  his  own 
salvation.  He  was  condescending  with  inferiors;  and,  not- 
withstanding his  aristocratic  ideas,  he  had  always  been  very 
pleasant  with  Mercedes  in  the  parlor,  treating  her  as  if  she 
were  of  the  same  rank  as  Magdalena.  If  there  was  now  and 
then  in  his  manner  a  slight  recognition  of  his  own  superiority 
it  was  passed  over  by  all  as  a  matter  of  course,  a  thing  in- 
evitable in  one  who  ivas  so  superior  as  Jose  Maria. 

In  the  evenings  in  the  parlor  Mercedes  had  quite  as  much 
conversation  with  him  as  Magdalena;  and  when  he  told  of 
his  travels  in  Europe,  of  the  cathedrals,  art  galleries,  palaces, 
ruined  castles  and  the  like,  she  was  a  far  more  interested  and 
appreciative  listener.  Though  his  health  had  never  been  in 
danger  from  overstudy  he  had  read  a  good  deal,  in  an  idle 
way,  which  he  considered  becoming  to  a  young  gentleman 
who  had  nothing  to  do  but  amuse  himself.  He  liked  to  talk 
about  what  he  read,  too. 

But  Magdalena  read  nothing,  not  even  the  mass  book.  In- 
deed, her  mother  sometimes  remarked,  with  a  sigh,  that  she 
feared  she  did  not  even  know  what  the  holy  mass  meant. 
She  could  only  sit  by  in  pretty  silence  and  admire  Jose  Maria 
as  he  held  forth  on  his  favorite  topics.  It  was  not  strange, 
under  these  circumstances,  that  he  should  fall  into  the  habit 
of  directing  most  of  his  conversation  to  Mercedes.  It  made 
her  uneasy,  and  she  sometimes  attempted  to  avoid  joining 
the  circle  about  Jose  Maria  on  account  of  it;  but  Magdalena 
quieted  her  fears  by  saying  often,  as  they  went  to  their  rooms 
for  the  night,  slipping  her  hands,  in  a  pretty,  enthusiastic 
way,  over  Mercedes'  arm,  and  looking  at  her  with  her  great, 
innocent,  happy  eyes: 

"O,  isn't  he  just  splendid,  Mercedes?    He  is  so  intelligent! 


272  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

and  I  know  you  enjoy  hearing  him  talk.  And,  O,  he  is  so 
handsome,  now  isn't  he?" 

And  Mercedes  always  replied,  "Yes,  he  is  quite  handsome," 
but  she  thought  to  herself,  in  her  girlish,  somewhat  tropical 
enthusiasm  for  a  being  who  was  superior  in  her  mind  to  any 
one  else  she  knew:  "He  is  beautiful  as  Apollo!" 

"I  think,"  she  would  add  sometimes,  standing  a  little  way 
from  Magdalena,  that  she  might  admire  her  beauty,  "that  he 
looks  better  when  he  sings  with  you,  just  you  two  together 
at  the  piano,  than  at  any  other  time.  It  would  make  a  beauti- 
ful picture.  You  certainly  do  suit  each  other."  And  she 
was  sincere  in  it.  She  was  jealous  for  Magdalena  if  Jose 
Maria's  glances  wandered  away  from  her,  even  to  herself,  for 
to  her  Magdalena  seemed  the  most  lovable  of  girls. 

One  evening  the  conversation  turned  on  Les  Miserables. 
Don  Francisco,  who  happened  to  be  passing  to  the  other  end 
of  the  parlor,  paused  a  moment  behind  Magdalena's  chair  to 
remark: 

'  'I  was  in  Paris  the  day  Victor  Hugo  was  buried.  I  was  in 
that  immense  procession  that  followed  him  to  the  pantheon. " 

"Les  Miserables  is  a  very  fine  book/'  observed  Dona  Flavia, 
when  Don  Francisco  had  turned  away.  "I  have  read  it;  it  is 
the  story  of  the  good  bishop. " 

A  look  of  amusement  gleamed  for  an  instant  in  Jose  Maria's 
eyes,  as  they  quickly  sought  Mercedes',  and  involuntarily 
the  twinkle  of  enjoyment  was  reflected  in  her^s;  then  she 
lowered  them  in  shame  and  self-reproach.  She  knew  that 
Jose  Maria  was  thinking,  just  as  she  was,  that  Dona  Flavia 
had  read  no  more  of  the  book  than  the  part  in  which  the 
*  'good  bishop"  figures.  Fortunately  neither  Dona  Flavia  nor 
Magdalena  had  seen  the  interchange  of  glances.  After  that 
she  did  penance  for  a  week  by  refusing  to  go  into  the  parlor 
in  the  evenings. 

Jose  Maria  felt  that  evening  more  distinctly  than  ever  be- 
fore that  Mercedes  could  "appreciate"  him  more  fully  than 
Magdalena.  But  what  aggrieved  him  most  was  that  she  did 
not  show  so  much  disposition  as  he  thought  the  subject  de- 


THE   TWO   MARRIAGES.  273 

manded,  to  fall  down  and  worship  him;  she  enjoyed  his 
stories  and  liked  him  as  Magdalena's  lover;  that  was  all. 
But  that  was  far  from  being  satisfactory  to  a  young  gentle- 
man who  saw  no  reason  in  the  fact  that  he  was  engaged  to 
one  girl  and  expected  to  marry  her  why  he  should  not  love 
another  and  talk  love  to  her,  too,  if  he  had  an  opportunity. 

Just  before  they  left  the  city  Mercedes  and  the  younger 
children  spent  a  week  with  a  sister  of  Don  Francisco's,  in  one 
of  the  most  elegant  homes  in  that  suburb  of  splendid  homes, 
Tacubaya,  while  Don  Francisco,  Dona  Flavia  and  Magdalena 
visited  Puebla,  Cordova,  and  other  cities. 

One  evening,  near  twilight,  she  was  wandering  alone 
through  the  spacious  grounds  in  the  midst  of  which  the  house 
stood,  admiring  the  gleaming  of  white  statues  and  the  flashing 
of  fountains  among  the  dark  green  foliage.  The  twittering  of 
birds  in  the  trees,  the  falling  of  water  in  the  fountains,  the 
scent  of  orange  blossoms,  and  the  faint  light  of  the  dying 
day,  all  contributed  to  make  it  a  perfect  evening. 

Presently  she  saw  coming  up  the  broad  carriage  drive  a 
tall,  dark  figure.  It  turned  aside  into  the  winding  path  and 
came  toward  her;  it  was  Jose  Maria.  She  was  very  much 
surprised  to  see  him,  for  he  knew  that  Magdalena  was  not 
there.  "But,  perhaps,"  she  thought,  "he  has  not  heard  from 
them,  and  he  has  come  to  hear  through  me.  But  he  ought  to 
have  gone  on  to  the  house.  If  I  go  up  to  the  house  with  him 
they  will,  wonder  how  long  we  have  been  talking  in  the 
grounds,  and  I  certainly  can't  stand  here  and  talk  with  him. 
But,  perhaps,  he  will  only  tell  me  good  evening  and  then  go 
on  alone  to  the  house." 

She  went  to  meet  him,  and  in  spite  of  her  perplexity  there 
was  a  welcome  in  her  bright  young  face,  for  she  said  at  the 
last  moment:  "He  is  only  so  eager  to  hear  from  Magdalena. 
He  will  go  on  in  a  moment. " 

But  he  did  not  go  on.  He  held  her  hand  and  looked  into 
her  uplifted  face,  and  when  she  attempted  to  withdraw  her 
hand  he  held  it  more  closely  and  said: 

"Are  you  glad  to  see  me,  Mercedes?  You  have  no  idea 
18 


274  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

how  lonely  I  have  been  since  you  came  out  here.  I  hoped  to 
find  you  in  the  grounds, "  and  his  handsome  face  approached 
very  near  hers  in  the  twilight. 

She  snatched  away  her  hand  and  started  away  from  him, 
stammering: 

'  'I — I  thought  you  came  to  hear  from  Magdalena.  I — I  am 
going  to  the  house. " 

"No,  Mercedes,  don't  go.  Stay  and  talk  with  me  a  little 
while.  We  shall  be  separated  soon  and  not  see  each  other 
any  more;  and  you  know  I  love  to  talk  to  you  better  than  to 
any  one  else. " 

"You  are  engaged  to  Magdalena  and  you  ought  not  to 
want  to  talk  to  any  one  else;  it  is  treason  to  her,"  and  she 
fled  from  him,  among  the  trees  and  shrubs,  to  the  house. 

Fluttering  like  a  bircl  escaped  from  the  fowler  she  sought 
her  room.  "I  never  thought  of  its  coming  to  this,"  she  said 
to  herself  as  she  dropped  into  a  chair.  "I  never  thought  of 
his  being  faithless  to  Magdalena.  But  he  does  mean  to 
marry  her;  he  said  we  should  be  separated.  And  yet  he  as 
good  as  said  he  loved  me  best.  But  if  he  thinks  he  can  make 
love  to  me  while  he  intends  to  marry  some  one  else  he  is  mis- 
taken," she  added  proudly. 

But  as  the  days  went  by  she  forgave  him  and  pitied  him; 
and  she  pitied  Magdalena  not  less  than  him.  Would  it  not 
be  better  for  Jose  Maria  to  break  his  engagement  than  to 
marry  Magdalena  under  such  circumstances?  Sometimes, 
too,  there  arose  before  her  dazzled  vision  the  life  she  might 
live  with  him,  and  she  contrasted  it  with  the  life  of  poverty 
and  hardship  that  probably  lay  before  her.  But  she  had  a 
wretched  feeling  that  every  thought  of  Jose  Maria  was  un- 
faithfulness to  Magdalena.  She  carefully  avoided  seeing 
him  during  the  remaining  days  that  they  passed  in  Tacubaya, 
after  the  family  returned. 

They  came  home  in  June,  leaving  the  beautiful  Valley  of 
Anahuac  in  all  the  luxuriance  of  a  tropical  summer.  It  was 
happiness  for  them  to  be  at  home,  to  go  through  the  familiar 


THE  TWO  MARRIAGES.  275 

rooms,  feeling  again  the  tender  associations;  to  see  the  faces 
of  friends  and  hear  their  words  of  welcome. 

"Come,  let's  see  the  bath,"  cried  Magdalena,  seizing  Mer- 
cedes' hand;  and  they  ran  together  to  the  old  bath  which  the 
Marquis  constructed  in  the  orchard.  A  swift,  deep  current 
of  crystal  water  ran  through  it.  It  was  so  swift  that  it  would 
sweep  a  man  off  his  feet  if  he  were  not  cautious.  An  iron 
ring  was  suspended  from  the  strong  rope  which  hung  from 
the  temporary  roof  of  the  bath.  In  those  first  summer  days 
at  home  the  two  girls  learned  to  plunge  through  the  stream 
by  seizing  the  ring.  Sometimes  Don  Francisco,  coming  in 
from  a  walk  in  the  orchard  where  he  had  been  hearing  the 
girlish  screams  and  laughter,  would  say  to  Dofia  Flavia: 

'  'It  makes  me  very  uneasy  to  know  those  girls  are  in  that 
bath;  it's  dangerous."  But  nothing  came  of  it,  and  morning 
and  afternoon  they  plunged  into  it,  their  pink  bathing  dresses 
growing  pinker,  a,nd  their  bare  arms  and  feet  flashing  in  the 
water.  And  Magdalena  was  scarcely  more  gay  than  Mer- 
cedes in  those  days;  it  was  so  easy  and  natural  to  be  light 
hearted  and  gay. 

Then  came  bevies  of  cousins,  young  ladies  and  young  gen- 
tlemen from  Monterey  and  other  towns,  and  the  large,  old 
house  was  full  to  overflowing,  so  full,  they  declared,  that 
there  was  no  room  for  the  ghosts  of  the  Marquis  and  his 
family.  It  was  like  a  cage  full  of  twittering  birds.  There 
were  amusements  from  morning  till  night. 

In  the  afternoons  there  was  always  a  horseback  party. 
The  girls  donned  riding  habits  of  the  latest  Parisian  style; 
each  gallant  young  gentleman  rode  by  the  side  of  a  fair 
cousin.  It  was  worth  one's  while  to  watch  them  as  they 
passed  through  town  in  a  gallop,  and  swept  out  over  .the 
broad,  yellow,  country  road.  In  the  evenings  there  were 
always  games,  music,  and  dancing. 

An  event  of  great  importance  was  the  arrival  of  Magda- 
lena's  handsome  trousseau,  including  everything  from  the 
daintiest  white  garment  to  the  foamy  veil  and  wreath  of 
orange  blossoms,  all  of  them  selected  by  Jose  Maria's  mother 


276  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

and  sisters,  and  paid  for  by  himself;  and  you  may  be  sure 
that  the  young  ladies  did  as  much  rapturous  exclaiming  over 
them  as  any  young  ladies  of  the  United  States  could  do. l 

Jose  Maria  and  a  half  dozen  friends  from  the  capital  and 
from  Guadalajara  joined  the  party  a  few  days  before  the 
marriage  was  to  take  place. 

The  day  of  the  civil  marriage  came.  A  few  intimate  friends 
from  the  town  joined  the  party  that  gathered  every  evening 
in  those  days  in  Don  Francisco's  parlor.  They  engaged  in 
conversation  till  the  hour  for  the  marriage  arrived.  Jose 
Maria  and  Magdalena,  followed  by  the  bridesmaids  and 
groomsmen,  entered  the  room.  The  bride  was  very  lovely 
in  a  pale  pink  silk  dress.  They  stood  side  by  side,  a  goodly 
couple,  he  radiant  as  Apollo,  and  she  fair  and  rosy  as  Diana. 
Then  the  Judge  and  the  Alcalde  and  the  two  witnesses,  and 
all  the  people,  stood  up,  and  with  patriotic  thoughts  of  the 
''Citizen  Benito  Juarez,"  and  of  the  good  days  that  had  suc- 
ceeded the  evil  days,  the  Judge  united  them  in  marriage. 

And  it  was  so  much  better  than  going  into  convents, 
thought  the  old  people  who  were  present,  remembering  their 
own  daughters  and  their  probable  fate  in  former  years.  And 
;so  the  young  people  rejoiced,  and  the  old  people  rejoiced 
more,  and  thanked  God  for  Benito  Juarez.  And  they  kissed 
the  bride  and  congratulated  them  both.  But  Don  Francisco 
thought  all  that  evening  of  his  other  daughter,  as  fair  and 
lovable  as  this  one — the  one  who  was  in  a  convent  in  France. 

After  the  marriage  there  was  more  conversation  and  music, 
.•and  at  an  early  hour  the  company  dispersed.  The  lights 
were  extinguished  and  the  house  grew  quiet,  and  all  of  them, 
from  the  sweet  bride,  for  the  last  time  with  the  other  girls  in 
her  "own  room, "where  she  had  dreamed  so  many  happy 
dreams,  to  the  little  girls  who  were  to  carry  the  train  of  her 


lNote. — Sometimes  the  young  couple,  accompanied  by  their  parents, 
go  to  a  city  together  and  the  ladies  of  the  party  select  the  bride's  ward- 
robe, the  promised  husband,  of  course,  paying  for  it.  But  it  is  quite 
common,  now,  as  it  is  more  convenient,  for  the  husband-to-be  to  give  the 
money  to  the  bride,,  so  that  she  may  herself  select  the  trousseau. 


THE  TWO   MARRIAGES.  277 

bridal  dress,  thought,  waking  or  asleep,  of  the  marriage  that 
was  to  be  on  the  morrow. l 

It  was  near  noon  of  the  next  day  when  about  a  dozen  car- 
riages drew  up  at  the  side  of  the  pretty  little  plaza  in  front 
of  the  church.  A  carpet  had  been  spread  from  the  stopping 
place  of  the  carriages  to  the  church  door.  Don  Francisco, 
Magdalena  and  two  of  the  little  girls  were  in  the  first  car- 
riage; in  the  second  came  Jose  Maria,  Dona  Flavia,  and  two 
young  ladies.  The  procession  formed,  Don  Francisco  and 
Magdalena  leading  the  way.  Two  little  girls  in  white  dresses 
and  wreaths  of  pink  roses  carried  the  long  train  of  her  white 
satin  dress.  Next  to  them  came  Jose  Maria  and  Dofla  Flavia, 
and  after  them  the  bridesmaids  and  groomsmen,  the  former 
in  pale  cream-colored  dresses,  and  with  tiny  white  veils  over 
their  heads  and  fastened  on  their  bosoms,  but  without 
flowers. 

Jose  Maria  joined  Magdalena  in  front  of  the  altar.  The 
groomsmen  took  their  places  by  his  side,  and  the  brides- 
maids stood  by  her,  all  of  them  on  the  handsome  rug,  which 
extended  from  the  platform  far  down  in  front  of  the  altar. 
Before  the  groom  and  bride  and  each  groomsman  and  brides- 
maid lay  an  exquisitely  embroidered  cushion  of  white  silk,  all 
of  them  furnished  by  the  groom.  On  these  they  knelt  and 
awaited  the  entrance  of  the  Senor  Cure.  He  advanced  to  the 

lNote. — Sometimes,  after  the  civil  marriage  ceremony  is  performed, 
the  company  dance  all  night,  and  at  dawn  or  before  dawn  of  the  day  go 
to  the  church  where  the  religious  marriasre  takes  place.  But  it  is  now 
considered  more  elegant  to  have  the/ civil  marriage  at  night,  making 
little  ado  over  it,  and  the  religious  marriage  the  following  day,  accom- 
panied by  all  the  festivities  which  are  common  in  weddings. 

"Are  there  many  people  now  who  consider  that  the  civil  ceremony 
is  not  valid,  and  that  therefore  the  parties  are  not  married  till  the 
religious  ceremony  is  performed?"  I  asked  of  a  bright-faced  Catholic 
young  lady  who  had  been  giving  me  a  vivacious  account  of  an  elegant 
wedding  in  which  she  had  been  one  of  the  bridesmaids. 

"No,  only  a  few  old  people  think  that  now.  Sometimes  the  religious 
marriage  takes  place  first,  but  in  that  case."  she  added,  laughing,  "the 
civil  authorities  fine  the  Senor  Cure,  because  they  say  the  religious 
ceremony  is  not  marriage.  He  has  had  to  pay  a  good  many  fines  for 
doing  that,  but  he  doesn't  mind  it;  he  will  perform  the  religious  cere- 
mony first  every  time  he  gets  a  chance." 


278  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

front  of  the  altar,  accompanied  by  two  acolytes,  one  of  them 
with  the  golden  censer  of  incense,  the  other  with  the  high 
cross.  As  the  Sefior  Cure  was  to  say  high  mass  he  was  in 
robes  suitable  for  the  occasion.  The  sacristan  held  the  ves- 
sel of  holy  water  and  the  hyssop  with  which  it  was  to  be 
sprinkled  on  the  contracting  parties. 

JFose  Maria,  Magdalena  and  the  bridesmaids  and  grooms- 
men arose  and  stood  before  him.  The  usual  questions  were 
asked  and  answered;  then  the  rings  were  exchanged,  the 
thirteen  pieces  of  money,  "the  pledges,"  were  poured  by  the 
groom  into  the  hands  of  the  bride  and  returned  by  her  to  the 
Senor  Cure,  and  they  were  sprinkled  with  holy  water.  They 
then  knelt,  and  the  first  bridesmaid  lifted  the  veil  of  the  bride 
and  drew  it  across  the  shoulders  of  the  groom;  the  Sefior 
Cure  wound  about  them  the  silken  cord  which  typified  their 
union,  and  the  sacristan  gave  to  each  of  them  and  to  each  of 
the  attendants  a  lighted  candle,  which  they  held  while  the 
mass  was  being  sung.  This  being  ended  they  returned  to 
the  house  where  they  received  the  congratulations  of  their 
friends. 1 

The  remainder  of  the  evening  was  spent  in  conversation, 
games,  meriendas,  music,  and  dancing.  There  was  a  splendid 
supper  and  a  grand  ball  in  the  evening. 

The  next  day,  accompanied  by  a  large  party  to  the  station, 
seventeen  miles  distant,  Jose  Maria  and  Magdalena  left  with 
the  friends  of  the  former  who  had  come  with  him,  for  his 
parents'  home  in  Guadalajara.  There,  admired  and  admiring 
each  other,  they  enjoyed  the  balls,  receptions  and  all  that  go 
to  constitute  the  life  of  fashionable  people  in  the  first  weeks 
after  their  marriage.  Then  they  went  to  housekeeping  in 
the  City  of  Mexico. 

*Note. — The  "tariff,"  as  they  call  it,  of  the  religious  marriage  is  so 
jealously  guarded  by  the  priests  that  by  no  efforts  could  I  get  a  sight  of 
it.  It  matters  little,  however,  except  for  the  suffering  from  ungratified 
curiosity,  since  the  charges  are,  of  course,  arbitrary,  depending  on  what 
the  happy  groom  can  be  induced  to  pay.  I  can  only  say  that  the  rug, 
incense,  holy  water,  cross,  robes,  candles,  cord,  etc.,  are  each  paid  for; 
and  if  the  finer  things,  such  as  the  "golden  censer,"  the  high  cross,  the 
silken  cord,  etc.,  are  used  the  cost  is  more. 


THE  GREAT  CHANGE.  279 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  GREAT  CHANGE. 

AFTER  Magdalena's  marriage  the  months  glided  swiftly 
by  in  the  old  house  which  the  Marquis  built.  At  first 
they  were  all  lonely  and  sad  without  her,  and  the  arrival  of 
her  letters,  telling  of  her  gay  life,  were  the  greatest  events 
of  the  week.  But  as  the  weeks  passed  her  place  closed  over 
and  they  learned  to  live  without  her. 

Mercedes  would  have  considered  herself  happy  in  those 
months  but  for  the  certainty  which  hung  over  her,  like  the 
fabulous  sword,  that  as  soon  as  Dofia  Flavia  was  convinced 
that  she  could  not  be  induced  to  return  to  the  Church  she 
should  be  dismissed;  and  then  how  should  she  support  her- 
self? Who  would  give  work  to  a  girl  who  had  been  dismissed 
by  the  Senora  Urbin^for  want  of  respect  for  the  Church? 

She  would  have  thought  she  was  happy  but  for  this  and 
the  haunting  unrest,  the  mysterious,  dreadful  weight  which 
lay  on  her  spirit.  Sometimes  she  knelt  and  tried  to  say  the 
"Our  Father,"  but  she  knew  that  the  Father  did  not  hear, 
and  often  she  arose  from  her  knees  without  saying  one  word. 
Instead  of  being  happy  she  was  desperately  gay  and  inwardly 
defiant  against  the  influences  of  the  Spirit,  which  were  more 
and  more  distinctly  felt. 

At  last  the  burden  could  be  borne  no  longer;  the  time  had 
arrived  for  the  consummation  of  that  great  change  which 
had  been  decreed  before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  "accord- 
ing to  the  good  pleasure  of  his  will."  She  herself  told  the 
story  of  this  change  in  a  letter  to  her  friend  in  Mexico: 

"SALT A,  March  15,  189—. 
Sra.  Mo.ximiliana  Valle  de  Sierra: 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  Such  a  great  change  has  happened  to 
me  that  I  must  write  to  tell  you  about  it.  You  will  be  aston- 


280  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

ished,  I  know,  to  hear  that  I  have  believed  the  gospel.  It 
happened  two  weeks  ago,  and  I  have  thought  of  you  often 
since;  and  this  morning  I  said:  'I  am  going  to  write  to  Maxi- 
miliana,  and  maybe  when  she  knows  how  good  and  how  true 
it  is  the  Lord  will  have  mercy  on  her  that  she  may  believe 
too.' 

This  was  the  way  it  happened:  You  know  I  was  a  strong 
Catholic,  and  I  confessed  to  the  priests,  and  I  did  penance, 
and  said  prayers  to  the  images,  and  I  even  wanted  to  be  a 
Sister  of  Charity;  and  all  the  time  I  was  trying  to  buy  salva- 
tion with  money  and  good  works.  But  I  found  no  peace  in 
any  of  these  things.  At  last  I  happened  to  see  some  copies 
of  'El  Faro,'1  and  'El  Kamo  de  Olivo,'2  and  they  made  me 
more  anxious  than  ever  about  the  salvation  of  my  soul.  I 
resolved  to  see  what  the  Protestants  taught  about  it. 

I  could  not  go  to  the  Protestant  house  of  worship  right 
away,  because  I  didn't  know  how  to  do  there,  and  I  didn't 
know  whether  I  should  be  welcome.  So  I  asked  Cipriana 
JSrorivar,  my  godmother,  you  remember,  to  go  with  me  one 
Sunday  afternoon  to  the  house  of  the  Protestant  minister  to 
Jbrsfcto  find  out  about  it.  We  pretended  that  she  wanted  some 
Mewing  to  do.  She  does  sew  for  people,  but  she  said  she  was 
afitfafd  of  their  sewing,  and  she  hoped  they  would  not  give 
and  they  didn't,  for  they  said  they  had  none  to  hire. 
we  waited  and  waited,  for  I  did  not  know  how  to  tell 
what  I  wanted,  and  I  did  not  want  to  leave  without 
out  how  to  go  to  the  meeting,  and  if  they  would  let 
me  go. 

the  lady  asked  us  if  we  knew  anything  about  the 
told  us  she  would  be  glad  for  us  to  come  to  the 
and  she  said  that  everybody  was  welcome,  and  that 
nothing  to  do  but  go  in  and  sit  down  and  listen. 
Cipriana  to  go  with  me  that  very  night.     Of 
course^  I-  did  not  let  Dofia  Flavia  know  it;    I  went  from 

.  —  TjOl    .G  I 

Cipriana  s  house. 

go^stant  house  of  prayer  looked  very  curious.   There 
^  water  near  the  door,  and  there  was  not  a  single 


'The  Presbyterian  paper.     2The  Quaker  paper. 


THE  GREAT  CHANGE.  281 

image  or  picture  on  the  wall.  There  were  seats  enough  for 
every  one,  and  the  people  didn't  kneel  at  all  when  they  came 
in,  for  there  was  nothing  to  kneel  to;  they  just  walked  in 
and  sat  down.  There  were  no  censers,  nor  robes,  nor  incense, 
nor  anything  of  the  kind.  They  sang  a  hymn,  and  then  they 
prayed  without  any  books  or  rosaries,  and  without  seeing 
anything  to  pray  to — just  to  God,  you  know — and  then  the 
minister  read  some  from  the  Bible  and  explained  it.  I  could 
understand  the  song  and  prayer  and  sermon  and  everything — 
none  of  it  was  in  Lathi. 

I' went  three  tunes  to  the  church;  and  I  went  to  the  house, 
too,  and  the  minister  and  the  lady  I  spoke  of  first  read  to  me 
from  the  Word  of  God  and  explained  it  to  me.  One  night, 
in  the  house  of  worship,  the  minister  read  and  explained  a 
story. 

It  was  about  a  rich  man  who  had  two  sons;  and  one  of  them 
asked  his  father  to  give  him  his  share  of  the  property;  and 
he  went  away  off  to  another  country.  He  lived  extrava- 
gantly; he  had  a  casino  and  he  gave  balls,  and  he  belonged 
to  a  club,  and  he  went  to  the  theaters.  He  spent  all  his 
money  so  that  he  was  poor,  very  poor,  and  he  had  to  hire  to 
a  man  to  keep  his  hogs.  And  then  he  thought  about  his 
father's  house  and  wished  he  was  back  there. 

His  father  was  very  sad  because  his  son  was  gone;  he 
stood  out  in  the  road  and  watched  for  him  nearly  all  the  time, 
putting  his  hands  over  his  eyes  and  looking.  A  woman 
passed  and  he  asked  her  if  she  knew  anything  about  his  son. 
She  said,  'No,  I  don't;  but  if  I  see  him  I  will  tell  him  that 
you  want  him  to  come  back. '  A  man  passed  and  he  said  the 
same  thing  to  htm  and  he  received  the  same  reply.  And  so 
passed  many  days.  At  last  the  son  did  come  back,  all  in  rags, 
but  his  father  knew  him,  and  he  ran  and  embraced  him  and 
kissed  him  and  took  him  into  the  house  and  put  a  fine,  new 
robe  on  him;  and  they  noticed  that  he  had  no  ring  on  his 
finger,  so  they  put  one  on  him;  and  they  ran  and  killed  the 
fatted  calf,  and  they  all  were  very  merry.  Oh,  it  was  such  a 
beautiful  story!  The  minister  said  that  was  the  way  the 


282  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Lord  would  receive  a  sinner  if  he  repented  and  went  back 
and  asked  for  pardon. 

After  I  went  home  to  Dofia  Flavia's  house  I  couldn't  sleep 
for  the  preaching  of  the  minister  that  was  sounding  in  my 
ears.  All  the  night  I  saw  myself  covered  with  sin;  and  then 
it  all  slipped  away  from  me,  and  I  saw  myself  clothed  in  a 
robe  as  white  as  snow;  but  I  was  very,  very  weak.  I  was 
regenerated  and  made  white  by  the  blood  of  Christ.  1  I  am  a 
member  of  the  church  now,  for  I  was  baptized  last  Sunday 
night. 

But  you  don't  know,  dear  Maximiliana,  what  struggles  one 
who  is  just  converted  from  Roman  Catholicism  has  with  his 
heart  on  account  of  his  false  education  in  religion. 

I  have  learned  a  great  deal  about  the  gospel  since  I  be- 
lieved, for  I  have  read  the  Bible  a  great  deal.  They  showed 
me  where  it  says  that  we  must  not  have  images,  nor  bow 


.  —  The  following  account,  which  Schiller  gives  of  the  conversion 
of  Mortimer,  is  quoted  in  El  Tiempo  as  a  genuine  "conversion  to  Cathol- 
icism." "It  seems  incredible,"  says  El  Tiempo,  "that  one  who  could 
speak  thus  of  himself  should  remain  longer  sunk  in  the  errors  of  Prot- 
estanism."  Mortimer  is  represented  as  relating  his  conversion  to  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots.  He  says:  "I  had  never  felt  the  magic  of  the  arts;  the 
religion  in  which  I  had  been  educated  disdains  them  and  does  not  toler- 
ate images  or  anything  which  speaks  to  the  senses;  it  wants  only  the  dry 
and  bare  word.  What  then  would  be  my  emotion  on  entering  the 
church  and  hearing  the  music  which  appeared  to  descend  from  heaven  — 
on  seeing  on  the  walls  and  arches  that  multitude  of  images  representing 
the  Almighty,  the  Highest,  which  appear  to  move  as  one  looks  at  them. 
....  I  contemplated  with  ecstasy  the  divine  pictures  of  the  Salutation 
of  the  Angel,  the  Birth  of  the  Savior,  the  Holy  Mother  of  God,  the 
Divine  Trinity,  and  the  brilliant  Transfiguration.  I  attended  at  last 
the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  celebrated  by  the  Pope,  who  in  all  his  splendor 
blessed  the  people.  Ah!  what  are  the  gold  and  the  jewels  of  the  kings 
of  the  world  worth  compared  with  so  much  magnificence?  he  alone  is 
seen  encircled  with  a  divine  halo;  his  word  is  like  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven, for  that  which  is  seen  there  is  not  a  thing  of  this  world." 

Says  El  Tiempo,  uThe  reasoning  of  Cardinal  Guise  finished  the  work 
which  the  splendor  of  the  worship  had  begun."  He  "showed  him  that 
the  eyes  must  see  what  the  heart  ought  to  believe,  that  the  Church 
needed  a  visible  Head,  that  the  spirit  of  truth  presided  in  the  Councils." 
....  "I  entered,"  says  Mortimer,  in  conclusion,  "into  the  bosom  of  the 
Catholic  Church  and  abjured  my  errors." 


THE  GREAT  CHANGE  283 

down  to  them.  It  is  one  of  the  ten  commandments.  When 
Father  Ripalda  wrote  his  catechism  for  the  Catholics  he 
omitted  that  commandment  and  divided  the  tenth  to  make  ten 
commandments.  The  Bible  teaches  us  that  we  ought  to  pray 
to  God  and  not  to  the  saints.  We  have  no  formulas  for 
prayer;  we  just  say  what  we  feel  in  our  hearts.  The  priests 
can't  forgive  sins;  there  never  have  been  any  men  on  the 
earth  who  could  forgive  sins  except  the  holy  Apostles. 

In  our  church  all  is  brotherly  kindness  and  equality.  We 
call  each  other  'Brother'  and  'Sister. '  Oh,  how  one  does  love 
Ms  brothers  and  sisters  in  Christ!  Even  if  one  has  never 
seen  them  he  loves  them. 

Now,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  written  you  all  this  so  you 
may  go  to  the  evangelical  worship,  too,  and  learn  the  way  of 
salvation.  Oh,  if  you  only  knew  how  the  burden  of  sin  slips 
away  from  one  when  he  believes  in  Christ! 

You  are  mistaken  about  their  having  an  image  of  the 
blessed  Virgin  for  candidates  for  admission  to  the  church  to 
spit  on  and  slap.  We  think  of  her  as  the  holy  Mother  of  God 
as  she  was  in  truth;  but  we  say  that  she  has  no  power  to  for- 
give sins,  for  that  is  what  we  are  taught  in  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures; Christ  is  the  only  Savior. 

Give  many  salutations  to  your  husband  for  me,  and  accept 
an  embrace  and  a  kiss  from  your  friend,  who  loves  you, 

MERCEDES  GONZALES. 

P.  D.  Dona  Flavia  would  not  let  me  stay  in  her  house 
when  she  learned  that  I  had  believed  the  gospel;  my  aunt 
had  left  Salta  more  than  a  year  ago,  and  the  Senor  Cure 
threatened  not  to  absolve  Cipriana  if  she  took  me  in;  but  a 
good  woman,  who  is  a  sister  in  Christ,  Dona  Susana  Espinosa, 
took  me  to  her  house.  She  is  very  poor,  but  I  help  her  make 
cigarettes.  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  I  do  feel  like  one  who  is 
out  on  the  ocean  clinging  to  a  plank,  and  it  seems  that  my 
fingers  are  growing  numb  and  slipping  off;  but  when  I  feel 
so  I  get  my  Bible  and  read  how  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  said 
that  our  heavenly  Father  clothed  the  flowers  and  fed  the 
birds,  and  that  we  were  of  much  more  value  than  they;  and 


284  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

so  I  leave  it  to  him  and  go  on;  I  would  rather  live  this  way 
than  be  a  Catholic." 

In  this  letter  she  says  nothing  of  several  things  which  she 
would  have  told  with  enthusiasm  if  she  had  sat  by  the  side  of 
her  friend.  Above  all  she  would  have  told  her  of  her  joy 
and  of  her  awe  when  for  the  first  time  she  held  in  her  hands 
the  Word  of  God,  the  revelation  of  the  Creator  to  his  crea- 
tures. 

We  who  are  so  familiar  with  this  revelation,  who  use  these 
phrases  so  often — how  seldom  we  pause. to  think  of  ,their 
import!  How  wonderful  it  is  to  know  the  mind,  the  char- 
acter, of  him  who  created  all  things,  the  sun  and  moon  and 
stars,  the  Milky  Way  of  suns,  and,  above  all,  of  him  who 
gave  us  our  mysterious  being! 

She  said  nothing  of  that  day  when  she  was  called  to  stand 
before  man  for  the  Lord's  sake.  When  even  Don  Francisco's 
strong  authority  could  no  longer  shield  her  from  the  wrath 
and  scorn  of  Dona  Flavia.  But  there  were  given  her  in  that 
same  hour  some  strong,  calm,  plain,  humble  words  which 
those  who  heard  her  could  neither  gainsay  nor  resist. 

And  at  the  end  of  the  scene,  in  obedience  to  her  mistress* 
orders,  she  opened,  and  closed  behind  her,  the  great  front 
doors  and  stood  in  the  street — homeless.  She  was  very,  very 
happy;  she  now  had  fellowship  with  Christ  in  his  sufferings.. 

There  was  one  instant  when  her  faith  failed  her  and  every- 
thing grew  dark  and  swam  before  her;  it  was  when  she  turned 
away  from  Cipriana's  door.  It  was  only  for  an  instant. 
Night  was  approaching,  but  again  she  looked  toward  the 
setting  sun  with  a  bright  face.  God  would  take  care  of  her 
somehow,  in  his  own  way,  she  knew.  She  went  on  down  the 
street,  and  presently  she  met  Dofia  Susana  Espinosa,  a  poor 
woman,  whom  she  had  seen  at  "the  house  of  prayer." 

"Good  evening,  mi  alma  (my  soul,  equivalent  to  "my 
dear"),  at  your  service.  Where  is  the  Sefiorita  going?"  she 
said. 

'  'I  don't  know,  Dofia  Susana,  I  am  like  the  Lord  now,  with- 
out a  place  to  lay  my  head. " 


THE  GREAT  CHANGE.  285 

"May  God  will  it!  Blessed  be  his  holy  name!"  exclaimed 
Dona  Susana,  whose  Roman  Catholicism  would  cling  to  her, 
notwithstanding  the  new  life  that  was  in  her,  till  she  entered 
the  gate  of  heaven.  Her  pious  exclamations  were  often  quite 
irrelevant.  "What  has  happened?"  she  continued. 

"Nothing  but  what  I  expected.  The  lady  I  lived  with  has 
turned  me  off  because  I  believed  the  gospel." 

"Has  the  Senorita  any  friend  that  she  can  stay  with?"  she 
asked  hesitatingly,  thinking  of  her  poor  home. 

"No,  but  I  am  not  afraid,  Dona  Susana;  the  Lord  will  take 
care  of  me. " 

The  good  woman  took  her  to  her  house.  The  next  day  she 
sent  to  Don  Francisco's  for  her  clothing.  Her  fingers  soon 
acquired  their  former  swiftness  in  making  cigarettes;  but  she 
could  not  earn  enough  at  it.  Day  after  day  the  little  money 
that  she  had  saved  slipped  through,  her  fingers;  then  she  sold 
some  of  her  dresses.  She  tried  to  induce  some  of  the  pool- 
neighbors  to  let  her  teach  their  children;  but,  of  course,  they 
would  not  permit  that,  for  had  she  not  added  to  her  other 
sins  by  trying  to  convince  them  that  her  heresy  was  more 
acceptable  to  God  than  the  teachings  of  the  Holy  Mother 
Church?  Don  Francisco  tried  to  find  her  employment,  but 
lie  was  no  more  successful  than  herself.  The  minister  offered 
her  a  temporary  home  in  his  house,  but  she  preferred  to  earn 
her  living,  even  in  the  humblest  way,  to  being  a  burden  to 
any  one. 

And  so  the  weeks  grew  into  months  till  three  of  them  had 
passed,  and  still  she  sat,  with  a  painted  tray  in  her  lap,  and 
twisted  cigarettes.  And  always  there  lay  by  her  side  a  New 
Testament;  and  often  she  read  aloud  to  Dona  Susana  and 
they  talked  of  what  she  read:  and  thus,  slowly,  one  by  one, 
were  corrected  the  errors  in  her  belief  that  appear  in  her 
letter  to  Maxitniliana. 


286  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO, 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH. 

I'W5ES,  mi  alma,  it  is  better  to  follow  the  Lord,  no  matter 
how  much  we  have  to  suffer.     In  heaven  we  shall 
have  peace  and  rest." 

"Yes,  Dona  Susana,"  replied  Mercedes. 

"I  was  a  Catholic,"  went  on  Dona  Susana  as  she  prepared 
the  shucks  to  receive  the  tobacco,  "and  a  strong  one.  I  be- 
longed to  the  Society  of  Perpetual  Adoration.  My  time  to 
kneel  before  the  image  of  the  Virgin  was  Tuesday  morning 
of  every  week.  How  tired  I  did  get  kneeling  on  the  stone 
floor!  The  rich  ladies  that  I  worked  for  used  to  have  me  go 
to  their  rooms  and  they  would  read  the  prayers  to  me.  And 
when  they  thought  I  didn't  want  to  confess  they  used  to  take 
me  up  in  their  carriages  and  carry  me  to  the  church.  O,  they 
were  very  good  to  me  in  those  days!"  she  said,  laughing. 

"How  did  you  come  to  believe  the  gospel?"  asked  Mer- 
cedes, knowing  that  the  old  woman  would  be  pleased  to  tell 
her  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"I  was  going  to  mass  one  Sunday  morning,  and  I  met  a 
gentleman  in  the  street.  He  stopped  me  and  asked  me  where 
I  was  going,  and  I  told  him,  'To  mass;'  and  he  said,  'Come  in 
and  hear  me  say  mass. '  So  I  went  into  the  little  room,  and  he 
preached  the  Word  of  God  to  me  and  to  a  few  other  people 
who  were  there.  And  the  Lord  had  mercy  on  me,  and  the 
light  entered  my  mind  and  I  believed  the  gospel.  That  was 
ten  years  ago.  Since  then  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
but  the  Lord  has  been  with  me. " 

"I  couldn't  join  the  church  right  away,  because  I  was  mar- 
ried to  my  husband  only  by  the  Church.  I  had  to  either 
leave  him  or  be  married  to  him  by  the  law.  He  was  very 
rebellious  and  I  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble,"  she  added,  with 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.  287 

a  deep  sigh.  Then,  remembering,  she  said,  "But,  poor  man! 
he  is  dead  now.  He  didn't  know  any  better.  It  was  the 
drink  that  ruined  him,  just  as  it  is  ruining  my  poor  boys, 
that  I  pray  so  for  every  day.  If  they  would  only  come  home 
from  the  mines!  Ah,  God  will  succor  us!  After  I  had  saved 
the  money  to  pay  the  judge  to  marry  us  it  was  a  long  time 
before  I  could  persuade  him  to  be  married  by  the  law." 

Just  then  something  darkened  the  doorway,  and  looking 
up,  Mercedes  saw  a  servant  from  Don  Francisco's  house 
crossing  the  two  thin  rocks  that  spanned  the  tiny  stream  of 
water  which  ran  in  front  of  the  house.  Seeing  her  in  that 
humble  room,  and  in  that  occupation,  he  did  not  take  off  his 
hat,  but,  saluting  them  both  in  a  style  which  he  thought 
suitable  to  the  occasion,  he  handed  Mercedes  a  note.  It  was 
from  Dona  Flavia.  She  had  just  returned  from  Mexico, 
bringing  Magdalena  and  her  baby  with  her.  She  had  found 
Pepe  very  sick,  and  he  had  been  steadily  growing  worse.  He. 
wished  to  see  her;  would  she  be  so  kind  as  to  come  to  him? 
She  had  evidently  tried  to  write  as  if  nothing  had  happened 
between  herself  and  Mercedes,  and  it  had  been  a  difficult  task. 

A  half  hour  later  Mercedes  was  at  the  door  of  the  room 
where  the  sick  child  lay. 

When  she  could  distinguish  objects  in  the  darkness  she 
saw  Dofia  Flavia  kneeling  by  the  tiny  bed;  Magdalena  sat 
at  the  foot,  and  a  little  way  from  the  head  sat  an  elderly 
lady,  a  friend  of  the  family.  As  Mercedes  entered  Dona 
Flavia  turned  her  fair,  troubled  face  to  the  lady,  and  ex- 
claimed: 

'  'O,  Dofia  Guadalupe,  how  could  I  bear  it  if  my  child  should 
die!" 

"Well,  Flavia,"  replied  the  low,  gentle  voice  of  the  matron, 
"when  my  son  died  I  said,  'The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away.'  We  must  all  submit  to  the  will  of  the  Lord. 
What  else  can  we  do?" 

This  was  merely  an  expression  of  the  fatalism  that  is  so 
prevalent  in  Catholic  countries. 

When  Mercedes  came  near  the  bed  Dona  Flavia  arose  and 


.288  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

shook  hands  with  her,  saying  kindly:  "I  am  glad  you  have 
come,  Mercedes."  Magdalena  greeted  her  with  all  her  old 
affection. 

When  she  turned  to  the  little  bed  she  saw  the  wasted  form 
and  pale  face  of  her  little  pupil.  A  new  rope  hung  on  the 
foot  of  the  bed  so  his  feverish  eyes  could  see  it.  "He  wants 
it  to  drive  the  calves  with  when  he  gets  well,"  explained 
Dona  Flavia.  "His  papa  bought  it  for  him.  Sometimes  he 
has  it  hung  at  the  head  of  the  bed  so  he  can  touch  it.  Speak 
to  him,  Mercedes.  Maybe  he  will  know  you." 

Mercedes  knelt  and  touched  his  hand,  saying  softly: 

"Pepe,  darling,  do  you  know  me?" 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  a  smile  pursed  the  thin  face,  as  he 
said:  "Mercedes." 

But  he  was  too  weak  to  say  more  then.  After  awhile  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  said  in  a  slow,  faltering  voice:  "Mer- 
cedes, you  won't — leave  me — any  more,  will  you?" 

"Tell  him  you  will  stay  with  him,"  whispered  Dona  Plavia, 
hiding  her  face,  bathed  in  tears,  behind  Mercedes. 

"Yes,  Pepe,  darling,  I  will  stay  with  you." 

And  she  did  stay  during  the  three  remaining  days,  and 
then  the  end  came.  But  when  the  "angel"1  lay  in  the  parlor 
with  the  flowers  about  him  she  stole  out  of  the  house  and 
went  back  to  Dofia  Susana's.  She  could  be  of  no  further  use 
to  them,  and  they  must  not  think  that  she  wanted  to  stay. 

But  the  evening  after  the  burial  she  put  on  a  black  dress 
and  a  black  shawl,  and  accompanied  by  Dofia  Susana,  went 
to  the  house  of  mourning.  A  servant  met  them  and  took 
them  through  the  dark  hall,  through  a  dark  room,  and 
another  in  which  one  candle  burned,  into  a  room  where  sat 
in  darkness,  save  for  the  little  light  which  entered  from  the 
one  candle  of  the  adjoining  room,  Dofia  Flavia  and  Magda- 
lena. They  were  dressed  in  black,  and  had  black  shawls 
drawn  closely  about  their  faces. 

A  strange  sight  it  was.  Here  in  this  inner  room  they  sat 
to  receive  their  visits  of  condolence,  and  the  dark  room  and 

lNote. — The  corpses  of  children,  seven  years  old  or  under,  are  called 
"angels;"and  flowers  are  placed  about  them  to  typify  their  innocence. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.  289 

the  mourning  apparel  were  a  fitting  expression  of  the  state 
of  their  minds. 

When  Mercedes  entered  Magdalena  arose  and  threw  her 
arms  around  her  neck,  sobbing.  When  she  released  her 
Dona  Flavia  came  to  meet  her,  her  old  dignity  and  grace  of 
manner  clinging  to  her  in  the  midst  of  her  deep  grief.  But 
her  voice  was  very  much  shaken,  as  she  said: 

"Mercedes,  why  did  you  leave?  He  wanted  you  to  stay;  I 
am  sure  he  wanted  you  to  stay  after  he  was  gone.  We  all 
want  you  to  stay.  Can't  you?'r  The  belief  had  forced  itself 
into  Dona  Flavia's  soul  that  her  child's  death  was  a  punish- 
ment for  her  having  turned  a  homeless  girl  into  the  street. 

"Yes,  Senora,  I  can  stay  awhile  if  I  can  be  of  any  use  to 
you,"  replied  Mercedes. 

She  came  back  the  next  day  and  stayed.  And  after  several 
of  those  sad  and  quiet  days  had  passed  over  the  household 
she  again  gathered  the  children  into  the  schoolroom  and 
taught  them. 

Magdalena  was  sad  and  quiet  as  the  others.  She  tried  to 
smile  as  she  showed  Mercedes  her  baby,  but  it  was  a  pitiful 
failure.  Mercedes  noticed  with  apprehensions  of  something 
wrong,  that,  in  contrast  with  the  days  of  her  courtship,  she 
seldom  mentioned  Jose  Maria.  Had  her  married  life  disap- 
poioted  her?  or  was  it  but  natural  that  she  should — not  love 
her  husband  less,  of  course — but  think  less  and  say  less 
about  him  because  her  heart  was  filled  with  this  great,  new 
mother  love? 

One  day  they  were  walking  in  the  orchard  under  the  grape- 
vines, whose  young  leaves  were  pale,  golden  green  in  the 
spring  sunlight. 

"Tell  me,"  said  Magdalena  earnestly,  slipping  her  little 
hand,  with  its  tapering  fingers,  over  Mercedes'  arm,  *  'tell  me, 
what  do  you  believe,  Mercedes?" 

"About  what?"  asked  Mercedes,  her  heart  giving  a  great 
leap,  and  then  growing  quiet. 

"About  religion.     What  do  the  Protestants  believe?" 

"Well,"  replied  Mercedes,  remembering  that  the  minister 


290  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

had  told  her  she  must  be  very  cautious  how  she  began  to  talk 
to  the  Catholics  about  religion,  "we  believe  just  as  the 
Catholics  do  about  some  things.  We  believe  in  the  Father. 
Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,"  and  then  she  was  sure  that  at  any 
other  time  Magdalena  would  have  laughed  at  that  dignified 
declaration  of  her  creed. 

"But  do  you  not  believe  in  the  saints  also?" 

"No,  not  as  you  do.  We  have  no  saints  as  you  under- 
stand it." 

"O,"  said  Magdalena,  wonderingly,  "you  have  saints;  you 
could  not  have  names  without  having  saints." 

"O,  yes,  we  can.  Protestants  don't  name  their  children 
for  the  saints." 

"What  do  you  do  Tat  your  church?"  resumed  Magdalena, 

"We  study  the  Scriptures  and  sing  and  pray,  and  our  pas- 
tor preaches  to  us  from  the  Bible." 

"You  read  the  Bible  for  yourselves,  too,  don't  you?"  and 
the  shocked  tone  of  her  voice  and  expression  of  her  face  were 
quite  noticeable.  • 

"Yes,  all  of  us,  every  day." 

"But  do  you  not  pray  to  the  saints  at  all?"  asked  Magda- 
lena, going  back,  after  a  pause,  to  that  important  dogma  of 
the  Catholics. 

"No,  never." 

"Not  even  to  Mary,  the  Holy  Mother  of  God?" 

"No,  never." 

"What  do  you  think  of  Mary,  anyhow?" 

"We  think  that  she  was  a  good  Christian  woman,  because 
she  was  a  believer  in  the  Lord,  and  that  she  was  highly  hon- 
ored in  being  the  mother  of  our  Lord;  but  we  believe  that 
she  wras  capable  of  sin,  and  that  she  did  sin  just  as  you  or  I 
or  any  other  woman." 

"O,  no,  no!  How  can  you  think  so?  The  Lord  made  her 
pure  and  holy.  He  kept  her  from  all  sin,  from  all  thought  of 
sin,  in  order  that  she  should  be  his  mother.  She  was  the 
highest  product  of  his  mind,  of  his  intelligence." 

"I  know  that  is  the  teaching  of  the  Church,"  said  Mer- 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH  291 

cedes,  quietly,  "but  it  has  no  foundation  in  the  Word  of  God.'' 

"Our  religion  is  so  comforting!"  went  on  Magdalena,  not 
noticing  the  reply. 

* 'But  ours  is  consoling,  too,"  said  Mercedes;  and  she  was 
thinking:  "chosen,  loved,  before  the  foundation  of  the  earth; 
casting  all  your  care  on  him;  to  be  like  him  at  last!" 

"But  not  like  ours.  O,  it  is  such  a  comfort  to  have  so  many 
saints  to  pray  to!" 

"But  I  think  it  is  a  greater  comfort  to  confess  our  sins  and 
tell  our  griefs  directly  to  the  Lord." 

"But  it  is  this  way,  you  know,  Mercedes:  An  earthly  king 
must  have  a  great  many  ministers  about  him,  because  he 
can't  attend  to  all  the  requests  of  the  many  people  who  call 
on  him  at  the  same  time.  When  a  poor  man  comes  he  must 
make  his  request  to  one  of  the  ministers.  So  God  has 
appointed  the  saints  to  hear  our  prayers,  and  the  priests  to 
forgive  our  sins." 

"But  God  is  not  like  .a  man.  He  could  hear  and  pay  par- 
ticular attention  to  each  petition  if  every  person  in  the  whole 
world  prayed  to  him  at  the  same  time. " 

"Ah,  Mercedes,  it  is  strange  you  should  think  of  it  that 
way.  But  come,  I  am  very  tired.  Let  us  go  to  the  house.  'r 

Mercedes  prayed  in  her  heart  as  they  went  on  to  the  house, 
"Lord,  teach  me  how  to  teach  her."  And  her  heart  ached 
for  her  worse  than  ever  as  she  saw  how  pale  and  tired  she 
looked  in  her  black  dress  when  she  lay  down  on  the  sofa  in 
her  father's  study. 

She  was  not  feeling  well,  her  mother  noticed.  In  her  grief 
she  had  not  thought  much  about  any  of  her  children  except 
the  little  boy  whom  she  had  lost. 

In  a  day  or  two  Magdalena  said  she  must  go  home;  she  had 
been  away  from  Jose  Maria  a  whole  month  and  he  would  bo 
lonely  without  her  and  baby.  In  vain  they  protested  that 
they  would  write  or  telegraph  to  him  to  come;  she  replied 
that  she  preferred  to  go  home;  she  should  be  better  for  the 
change,  she  thought.  And  they  all  thought  she  was  prob- 
ably right  about  that.  So  her  father  took  her  to  Mexico,  and 


292  MERCEDES,  A  STOKY  OF  MEXICO. 

stayed  a  few  days  and  returned,  reporting  that  she  seemed  to 
be  better;  she  would,  no  doubt,  be  quite  strong  and  well  soon. 

But  in  a  few  days  there  came  a  telegram.  It  flashed  down 
like  scathing  lightning  into  that  already  stricken  household. 
It  was  from  Jose  Maria:  "Magdalena  was  very  sick;  would 
her  mother  come  immediately." 

Then  Dona  Flavia,  forgetting  the  impossibility  of  leaving 
the  house  during  the  months  of  mourning,  went  with  Don 
Francisco  to  her  daughter's  bedside. 

The  fever  had  seized  her.  It  was  the  same  old  story;  "the 
old,  old  fashion  of  death, "  for  "we  are  all  to  die,  each  in  his 
time,  and  who  can  help  it!"  as  the  Catholics  say. 

There  was  no  help  in  anything,  thought  the  parents  and 
the  young  husband. 

Before  the  delirium  and  in  lucid  intervals  the  terror  of 
'death  laid  hold  upon  her.  There  were  crucifixes  and  burning 
candles  where  she  could  not  open  her  eyes  without  seeing 
them,  but  they  gave  her  no  comfort.  In  vain  the  priest 
heard  her  last  confession  and  gave  her  absolution;  in  vain  he 
gave  her  the  Eucharist;  in  vain  he  administered  the  Extreme 
Unction,  putting  on  her  feverish  face  and  hands  the  oil  of 
olives  consecrated  by  the  bishop,  and  repeating  over  her  the 
words  which  he  said  the  "Holy  Church  of  Rome,  the  Mother 
:and  Mistress  of  us  all  had  received  by  faithful  tradition,  'By 
this  holy  anointing  may  God  pardon  thee  all  that  thou  hast 
sinned  through  vice  of  the  eyes,  of  the  nose,  the  touch,'  etc., 
•etc."  In  vain  Jose  Maria  assured  her  that  many  masses 
should  be  said  for  the  repose  of  her  soul.  All  in  vain ! 

But  after  it  was  all  over  and  she  lay  on  the  silken  cushions 
of  the  casket  in  the  black  mortaja1  in  the  midst  of  the  burning 
candles,  there  'were  many  who  said  that  she  looked  very 

1  JVbte. — Formerly  this  dress,  the  mortaja,  was  bought  from  the  priests. 
They  would  not  bury  any  corpse  without  it;  and  as  the  burying  grounds 
were  all  in  the  hands  of  the  priests  it  followed  that  no  corpse  could  ba 
buried  without  it.  The  priests,  therefore,  often  charged  exorbitant 
prices  for  it.  Now  that  the  cemeteries  belong  to  the  government  the 
mortaja  is  used  or  not,  according  to  the  wishes  of  the  friends;  and  it  is 
made  by  the  friends  as  any  other  dress  would  be. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.  293 

peaceful,  and  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  that  sweet, 
young  creature  had  "died  in  grace."1 

Notwithstanding  the  prohibition  of  the  law,  the  double 
chimes  of  bells  announced  the  funeral  services  in  the  church. 
There  was  sung  the  Misa  del  cuerpo  presente  (mass  with  the 
body  present).  Afterward  the  casket  was  bound  in  the 
hearse  with  ropes  covered  with  flowers,  and  the  male  friends 
of  the  family  followed  it  in  coaches,  in  slow  procession, 
to  the  pantheon.  Dona  Flavia  set  her  heart  on  having  the 
funeral  service  chanted  by  the  priests  and  acolytes  in  the 
streets,  as  the  procession  moved  along,  after  the  old  fashion, 
but  Don  Francisco  would  not  consent  to  so  flagrant  a  viola- 
tion of  the  law. 

In  the  pantheon  the  casket  was  placed  on  the  ground,  the 
priest  in  his  robes  stood  by  it,  and  the  acolytes,  with  the 
high  cross,  the  holy  water,  and  the  censer  of  incense.  After 
their  ceremonies  were  over  the  coffin  was  lowered,  a  few 
shovels  of  earth  were  thrown  in,  and  then  all  retired  but  the 
sexton  and  his  assistants. 

Af.ter  the  last  sad  rites  were  over  Don  Francisco  and  Dofia 
Flavia  brought  the  tiny  baby  and  its  nurse  to  their  home; 
and  Jose  Maria  remained  alone. 

This  last  blow  almost  prostrated  Dofia  Flavia.  She  was 
rebellious  about  'her  daughter's  death;  if  God  had  punished 
her  for  her  conduct  toward  Mercedes  by  taking  her  son  why 
should  he  punish  her  still  more,  after  she  had  repented,  by 
taking  her  daughter?  she  said  to  herself.  Her  health  gave 
way  under  the  strain  of  grief;  she  was  not  able  to  care  for 
the  baby.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Mercedes  took  charge 
of  it  and  its  nurse.  They  slept,  and,  in  fact,  lived  in  her 
room.  It  was  to  this  care  for  the  child  that  Mercedes  was 

lNote. — All  of  the  dead  in  Roman  Catholic  countries  who  have  the 
privilege  of  going-  to  purgatory  instead  of  directly  to  the  infernal  regions 
are  said  to  "die  in  grace."  None  go  directly  to  heaven;  and  none  go  to 
hell  except  heretics,  infidels,  and  others  who  die  refusing  the  offices  of 
the  Church,  and  whose  relatives  refuse  to  pay  for  masses  for  the  dead. 
Consequently  the  Church  loses  no  money  by  admitting  the  doctrine  of 
eternal  punishment. 


294  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

indebted  for  the  privilege  of  staying  longer  in  the  house; 
for,  but  for  that,  Dofia  Flavia  would  have  found  some  excuse 
to  dismiss  her  and  yet  retain  a  quiet  conscience. 

As  the  months  passed  the  tiny  boy  became  fat  and  rosy  and 
beautiful.  The  dark  shadow  of  death  slipped  from  over  the 
family.  The  baby  was  a  "well-spring  of  joy"  to  them  all, 
even  to  Don  Francisco.  Jose  Maria  came  sometimes,  and  he, 
too,  was  gay  and  playful  with  his  boy.  He  did  not  fail  to  see 
during  his  short  visits  that  it  was  Mercedes  who  cared  for 
his  child,  though  she  intentionally  had  less  to  do  with  it 
during  his  stay  in  the  house  than  at  other  times. 

Her  position  was  far  more  like  that  of  a  servant  than  it  had 
been  during  her  former  stay  there.  She  was  seldom  invited 
into  the  parlor  now.  The  excuse  for  the  omission,  if  one 
were  neede'd,  would  have  been  that  the  care  of  the  child 
occupied  her  time  when  she  was  not  in  school.  But  she 
knew  that  that  was  not  it,  for  often  they  saw  her  walking 
back  and  forth  in  the  corridor  while  the  baby  slept  and  the 
nurse  sat  by  him. 

But  she  was  happier  for  being  left  thus  alone;  she  had 
more  time  for  the  reading  of  the  Bible  and  for  prayer. 


DUTY.  295 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

DUTY. 

ATOTWITHSTANDING  her  faith  there  were  some  very 
1 M  dark  days  in  Mercedes'  life.  She  knew  that  the  time 
would  certainly  come  when  she  should  have  to  go  back  to 
the  life  of  poverty  and  coarseness  from  which  she  had  been 
lifted  for  awhile. 

Then,  again,  it  was  inevitable  that  such  a  nature  as  hers 
should  feel  deeply,  now  that  she  stood  on  a  higher  plane, 
and  her  finer  sensibilities  had  been  cultivated,  the  wrongs 
that  had  been  inflicted  on  all  of  her  class  by  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church— the  poverty,  ignorance,  and  degradation. 

In  those  days  this  Mexican  daughter  of  a  religious  mar- 
riage sought  to  quiet  her  spirit  by  reading  the  eighteenth 
chapter  of  the  Revelation  of  John:  "Babylon  is  fallen,  is 
fallen."  And  her  soul  took  up  the  cry  of  "them  that  were 
slain  for  the  Word  of  God  and  for  the  testimony  which  they 
held:  How  long,  O  Lord,  dost  thou  not  judge  and  avenge  our 
blood  on  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth!" 

A  very  human  instrument  was  used  to  help  her  out  of  one 
of  these  seasons  of  darkness.  It  happened  that  Jose  Maria 
came.  He  had  few  opportunities  to  talk  with  her  in  these 
days;  but  he  sometimes  came  out  and  swung  the  children 
during  the  recesses  of  the  school,  and  then  he  exchanged  a 
few  words  with  her. 

He  had  for  some  time  been  making  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  like  to  marry  Mercedes.  I  don't  suppose  he  is  the 
first  young  gentleman  of  aristocratic  origin  and  ideas  who 
ever  fell  into  the  error  of  wanting  to  marry  a  girl  who  was 
his  inferior  in  social  ppsition.  There  was  more  than  one 
reason  which  caused  him  to  entertain  this  extraordinary 
thought.  He  loved  his  child;  he  wanted  him  with  him.  He 


296  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

wanted  to  know  that  he  was  in  the  care  of  some  one  who 
would  always  be  kind  to  him;  he  had  rejoiced  all  this  time 
that  Mercedes  had  the  care  of  his  boy. 

Besides  that  he  liked  Mercedes,  liked  her  very  much,  be- 
cause he  knew  that  she  admired  him.  He  remembered  her 
low  origin,  it  is  true;  but  he  reflected  that  he,  Jose  Maria 
Ortega,  was  high  enough  in  riches  and  respectability  to  do 
as  he  pleased  in  this  matter,  and  in  all  matters.  Besides  no 
one  would  suspect  it;  seeing  her  and  knowing  her,  who  of 
the  society  in  which  he  moved  in  the  capital  or  in  Paris  would 
ask  if  his  wife  were  the  daughter  of  a  peon? 

He  knew  that  she  had  gone  off  into  this  strange  heresy, 
and  that  was  to  be  regretted;  but  she  would  soon  turn  from 
it  under  his  influence. 

Besides  these  considerations  there  was  another  which,  if  it 
was  not  an  argument  in  favor  of  it,  was  at  least  a  pleasant 
thought  in  connection  with  it:  His  marriage  with  Mercedes 
would  be  a  terrible  blow  to  his  mother-in-law;  and  Jose  Maria 
had  developed  that  unaccountable,  unprecedented  peculiarity, 
that  of  heartily  disliking  his  mother-in-law. 

Giving  all  these  things  due  consideration  he  had  arrived  at 
the  conclusion  that  after  Magdalena  he  would  rather  have 
Mercedes  for  a  wife  than  any  other  girl  he  had  ever  known. 

He  was  thinking  this  one  afternoon  when  he  came  up  to 
Mercedes  as  she  stood  in  the  shade  of  one  of  the  large  trees 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  The  children  were  playing  a  little 
way  off.  After  a  little  conversation  he  said: 

*  'I  wish  you  would  come  into  the  parlor  in  the  evenings 
now  as  you  used  to  do.  I  would  so  love  to  talk  to  you  some- 
times." 

He  said  that  at  the  most  dangerous  time.  She  had  no 
thought  of  courtship,  but  she  was  hungry  for  respect  and 
sympathy.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  half  pleading  eyes, 
and  said: 

"You  do  respect  me  and  like  me  a  little  then?" 

Jose  Maria  had  not  expected  such  a  reply.  It  touched  him. 
He  stooped  to  pick  up  a  pencil  that  had  slipped  from  her 


DUTY.  297 

fingers  as  she  spoke,  and  as  he  restored  it  to  her  his  slender, 
soft  hand,  with  the  blue  veins  in  it,  lingered  on  her  hand  and 
clasped  it. 

"Mercedes,"  he  said,  as  he  bent  nearer  her,  "you  know  I 
always  respected  you  and  liked  you.  I  wish  I  could  be  with 
you  of  ten. ?' 

Just  then  the  children  bounded  toward  them  and  she  was 
spared  the  necessity  of  replying.  She  was  surprised,  but  to 
her,  in  that  strained,  suffering  state  of  mind,  it  did  not  seem 
a  very  exaggerated  expression  of  simple  friendship.  *  'It  was 
very  beautiful  and  noble  of  him  to  show  so  much  kindness  to 
a  poor,  humble  girl,"  she  thought.  So  it  is  often;  the  words 
go  out  from  our  lips  and  we  know  not  what  chords  in  the 
souls  of  others  they  are  going  to  strike. 

She  thought  a  good  deal  about  it  in  the  next  day  or  two; 
and  as  the  depressing  clouds  broke  and  fled  away  from  her 
mind  she  began  to  suspect,  remembering  what  he  had  said 
to  her  two  years  before,  that  he  meant  more  than  friendship. 
And  now  and  then,  as  one  who  is  crossing  the  mountains 
catches  sometimes  a  glimpse  of  distant  landscapes,  she  saw 
again  the  dazzling  life  that  Jose  Maria  might  offer  her. 
Those  prospects  of  worldly  enjoyment  would  have  had  no 
attraction  for  her  in  the  first  days  after  her  conversion,  but 
these  months  of  living  with  those  to  whom  unseen  things 
were  as  nothing,  had  told  on  her  spiritual  life. 

One  afternoon  she  happened  to  pass  through  the  study, 
just  at  dusk.  When  she  was  about  half  way  through  the 
room  there  arrested  her,  coming  from  the  dark  corner  where 
the  sofa  was,  a  happy,  electrifying,  baby  laugh.  Thinking 
the  nurse  was  there  with  the  child  she  started  to  rush  across 
the  room  to  catch  him  in  her  arms  and  cover  him  with  kisses; 
but  a  tall,  dark  figure  arose  from  the  sofa  and  came  toward 
her.  It  was  Jose  Maria.  She  threw  up  her  hands  with  an 
exclamation,  then  clasped  them,  saying: 

'  'I — I  thought  it  was  only  Catalina  with  the  baby. " 

But  Jose  Maria  came  to  her  side;  he  laid  one  hand  on  her 
shoulder,  and  holding  her  clasped  hands  with  the  other,  said: 


298  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

"Mercedes,  why  do  you  avoid  me?  You  know  I  want  to  be 
with  you!  Won't  you  stay  with  me  all  the  time?  Won't  you 
marry  me?" 

"O,  I  don't  know.  Don't  talk  to  me  that  way,  please.  Let 
me  go.  Think  of  Dofia  Flavia!"  and  she  tried  to  wrench  her 
hands  from  his  grasp. 

But  he  held  them.  The  mention  of  Dona  Flavia  was  the 
thing  of  all  others  to  urge  him  on.  In  fact  in  the  instant  be- 
fore she  said  that  he  had  been  conscious  of  something  very 
like  uneasiness  lest  she  should  accept  him. 

'•'It  makes  no  difference  what  she  thinks.  It  only  matters 
what  you  and  I  think  about  it.  Tell  me,  Mercedes." 

"I — I  can't  now.  I  don't  know.  I  must  think  about  it.  I 
will  tell  you  to-morrow." 

With  another  effort  she  disengaged  her  hands  and  glided 
out  of  the  room.  Jose  Maria  went  back  to  the  sofa  and  lifted 
up  the  baby  from  the  floor.  He  scarcely  knew  what  to  think 
of  Mercedes'  conduct.  He  could  not  imagine  that  any  girl 
would  refuse  him,  and  especially  a  girl  of  her  position. 
"Think  about  it,  indeed!"  he  said  to  himself.  But  no  doubt 
she  was  only  dazzled  at  the  prospect,  and  she  was  evidently 
-afraid  of  'Dona  Flavia.  Then,  remembering  his  feelings 
when  he  thought  she  might  accept  him,  he  reflected  that 
even  if  he  were  engaged  to  her  there  would  be  nothing  to 
prevent  his  breaking  the  engagement  if  it  did  not  suit  him 
"on  further  consideration." 

Mercedes  had  before  her  the  task  of  deciding  a  difficult 
question  that  night.  What  reason  was  there  why  she  should 
not  marry  Jose  Maria?  He  liked  her  and  she  liked  him.  She 
admired  him  even;  but  she  had  to  own  to  herself,  as  she  had 
often  done  before,  that  there  was  something  wanting,  some 
earnestness  of  character.  She  could  not  thoroughly  rever- 
ence a  man  in  whom  she  felt  that  that  was  lacking.  And  the 
Holy  Spirit  had  said:  "Let  the  wife  see  that  she  reverence 
her  husband. "  She  moved  uneasily  as  she  thought  of  that. 
But  she  did  reverence  him  in  some  degree,  she  said.  She 
remembered  that  he  had  never  said  anything  about  loving 


DUTY.  299 

her.  and  she  had  scarcely  ever  thought  of  love  in  connection 
with  him;  but,  no  doubt,  now  that  she  did  think  of  it,  that 
was  what  he  meant;  and  she — well — she  liked  him.  It  would 
be  a  great  pleasure  to  her  always  to  have  the  care  of  Magda- 
lena's  child.  Might  it  not  be  a  duty  to  marry  him  on  that 
account,  that  she  might  give  the  child  a  Christian  education? 

After  all  the  fine  things  that  were  said  and  written  about 
marriage  ought  we  not  to  exercise  common  sense  about  it? 
The  day  would  come  sooner  or  later  when  she  would  have  to 
go  out  again  to  that  terrible  life  of  poverty  and  anxiety,  a 
taste  of  which  she  had  already  had.  It  did  not  seem  so  easy 
and  heroic  now  as  it  did  when  she  had  first  entered  on  it;  she 
shrank  from  it  with  an  inexpressible  shrinking.  The  life 
that  Jose  Maria  offered  her  seemed  like  Paradise  compared 
with  it.  How  she  should  be  sheltered  and  cared  for!  And 
more  and  more  in  the  last  two  years  she  had  been  feeling  her 
helplessness  and  the  need  of  some  one  stronger  and  better 
than  herself  on  whom  to  lean.  Her  mind  drifted  off  into 
thoughts  of  this  new  life  of  ease  and  wealth  and  travel.  It 
was  so  easy  and  pleasant  to  think  about  it.  The  glittering 
gift  was  just  before  her;  she  had  only  to  put  out  her  hand 
and  take  it. 

But  she  shook  off  these  thoughts  and  came  back  to  her 
task.  The  question  must  be  decided.  She  had  answered 
with  a  sophistry  one  thing  that  the  Holy  Spirit  had  said.  It 
frightened  her  to  think  of  it.  He  might  leave  her  alone  to 
do  as  she  pleased;  and  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  a  Christian  to 
be  left  alone  to  follow  his  own  inclinations.  There  was  a 
fierce  struggle,  and  at  the  end  of  it  she  said  in  her  heart:  "I 
will  do  whatever  thou  mayest  show  me  it  is  my  duty  to  do." 

Immediately  there  confronted  her  another  declaration  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  which  she  had  hitherto  refused  to  consider: 
"Be  not  unequally  yoked  with  unbelievers."  Jose  Maria 
was  an  unconverted  man,  an  unbeliever.  That  was  unan- 
swerable; that  decided  the  question.  She  was  exhausted  by 
the  struggle,  but  in  her  heart  shone  the  soft  radiance  of  the 
Lord's  smile  of  approval,  the  *  'peace  that  passeth  under- 
standing.'* 


300  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

The  next  day  when  she  saw  Jose  Maria  under  the  trees  she 
did  not  avoid  him.  She  dreaded  very  much  to  answer  him 
She  was  not  the  first  girl  who  ever  went,  almost  breaking 
her  heart  with  pity,  because  she  must  refuse  to  marry  a  man 
who  would  forget  her,  and  marry  some  one  else  within  six 
weeks  if  he  had  an  opportunity — nor  will  she  be  the  last. 

She  told  him  that  she  respected  him  and  liked  him  very 
much,  but  that  the  principles  of  her  religion  forbade  her  to 
marry  one  whose  beliefs  were  so  radically  different.  She  was. 
very,  very  sorry  he  had  ever  thought  of  it,  but  she  was  sure 
he  would  soon  think  she  had  answered  him  wisely,  and  would 
be  glad  that  she  had  answered  so. 

He  was  astonished;  then  he  manifested  something  very  like 
anger  as  he  made  some  reply  which  Mercedes  could  never 
quite  recall,  but  which  left  the  impression  on  her  mind  that 
it  was  not  very  polite.  He  turned  and  walked  abruptly  away,, 
and  the  next  morning  he  left,  without  telling  her  good-bye, 
for  the  City  of  Mexico. 

Well,  Dona  Flavia  found  it  all  out.  Eavesdropping  servants 
are  a  wonderful  help  sometimes  to  mistresses  in  keeping  up 
with  the  affairs  of  their  households.  She  was  disgusted  with 
Jose  Maria;  he  deserved  it,  she  said.  But  to  think  that  a 
girl  of  Mercedes'  station  should  actually  refuse  to  marry  one 
of  "our  family!" 

She  avoided  another  scene,  for  she  had  not  enjoyed  the  first 
one;  but  in  two  or  three  days  after  Jose  Maria's  departure 
the  handsome  front  doors  opened  and  closed  again  on  Mer- 
cedes, and  she  went  again  to  Dofia  Susana's  for  shelter. 

As  Jose  Maria  has  nothing  more  to  do  with  this  story  I 
will  tell  you  here  the  little  more  that  I  know  about  him. 

He  has  not  yet  married  again.  He  pays  little  attention  to 
the  young  ladies,  and  some  of  his  friends  opine  that  he  will 
never  marry  again;  but  the  young  ladies  hold  a  different 
opinion  about  this  much  discussed  question.  They  "think 
more  of  him  for  not  being  in  haste  to  marry. "  They  think  his 
devotion  to  his  little  son  is  "perfectly  beautiful."  He  has 
been  heard  to  say  that  as  soon  as  he  is  old  enough  he  intends 


DUTY.  301 

to  bring  him  to  the  capital  and  keep  him  all  the  time  with 
himself. 

He  has  become  very  religious,  very  religious,  indeed.  He 
attends  the  entertainments  in  the  theaters,  the  circuses  and 
the  plaza  de  toros  with  great  assiduity,  and  he  is  particularly 
liberal  when  any  of  these  are  for  the  cause  of  religion.  It 
was  in  the  Cathedral  that  I  saw  him.  He  was  kneeling  on  a 
silk  handkerchief,  his  silk  hat  on  his  legs  behind  him,  his 
hands  clasped,  and  his  eyes  upturned  to  an  image. 

Every  year,  on  the  anniversary  of  Magdalena's  death,  he 
pays  for  a  curious  performance  in  the  church  which  she 
attended.  Over  the  entrance  are  hung,  and  gracefully  looped 
back,  black  velvet  curtains.  Within,  and  forming  a  long 
aisle  that  leads  toward  the  high  altar,  are  placed,  alternately, 
evergreen  trees  in  boxes,  and  long  and  large  candles  in  tall, 
handsome  candlesticks.  In  front  of  the  altar,  and  extending 
far  up  among  the  painted  angels  of  the  dome,  is  built  a  mau- 
soleum. It  appears  to  be  made  of  brown  stone,  but,  of 
course,  it  is  of  wood  or  of  s6me  lighter  material.  On  the 
front,  in  large  letters,  is  the  name,  "Magdalena." 

When  all  these  arrangements  are  completed  masses  are 
sung  at  every  altar  by  the  priests  in  rich  vestments. 

All  this  is  for  the  release  of  Magdalena's  soul  from  pur- 
gatory. 


302  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 


.CHAPTER  XXXIH. 

"THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE  NEVER  DID  RUN  SMOOTH." 

TEODORO,  as  I  have  said,  went  to  a  small  town  in  one  of 
the  northern  States  to  teach.  He  was  well  received  by 
the  best  people  in  the  little  town  and  the  school  began  under 
bright  auspices.  His  salary  was  good  and  he  soon  began  to 
indulge  in  some  little  luxuries,  especially  in  books  which  he 
had  long  coveted.  He  had  not  been  in  the  town  long  before  he 
heard  that  evangelical  services  were  held  there.  He  sought 
the  service  hall;  he  was  much  pleased  by  what  he  saw  and 
heard,  and  afterwards  attended  regularly  the  two  Sunday 
services  and  the  week-day  prayer  meeting.  After  some 
weeks  spent  in  examining  the  doctrines  of  the  church  in  the 
light  of  the  Scriptures  he  became  a  member.  He  had  never 
had  a  church  home  before,  nor  had  he  ever  known  anything 
of  the  communion  of  the  saints.  If  he  had  not  been  sepa- 
rated from  Lupe  so  soon  after  his  conversion  it  is  probable 
that  he  would  not  have  been  deprived  so  long  of  these  privi- 
leges. 

When  it  became  known  that  he  attended  the  heretical  meet- 
ings two  or  three  of  the  "best"  families  took  their  children 
from  the  school.  After  he  joined  the  church  it  became  evi- 
dent that  he  was  far  less  popular  with  the  others;  but  he  was 
a  good  teacher,  a  much  better  one  than  any  other  they  had 
had  for  some  time  and  they  did  not  like  to  lose  this  oppor- 
tunity of  having  their  boys  well  instructed  at  home.  But 
when,  after  the  first  year  he  "took  to  preaching,"  all  but  a 
few  of  the  youngest  and  poorest  pupils  left  the  school;  then 
Teodoro  resigned,  and  it  was  closed.  He  had  known  all  the 
time  what  would  be  the  consequences  of  his  course,  but  he 
was  one  of  those  people  who  will  do  their  duty  uncompro- 
misingly and  leave  the  consequences  to  God. 


"COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE  NEVER  DID  RUN  SMOOTH."  303" 

As  to  his  call  to  preach  the  gospel,  he  said  of  it,  as  every 
other  true  minister  of  the  Word  has  said  since  the  tune  of 
Paul:  "Woe  is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel." 

Soon  after  he  gave  up  the  school  he  was  employed  by  a 
missionary  society  to  take  charge  of  the  church  in  that  town. 

About  this  time  he  left  the  hotel  and  went  to  board  in  a* 
private  family.  The  wife  of  the  master  of  the  house,  Refugio, 
was  a  member  of  the  church,  and  so  was  her  mother,  Dona 
Benigna  Cadena.  The  life  in  that  orderly,  Christian  home 
was  like  a  foretaste  of  Paradise  to  Teodoro. 

Dofia  Benigna  was  of  middle  age;  she  was  tall,  .with  plain 
features  and  a  kindly  expression.  Her  black  hair  was  always 
parted  in  the  middle  and  combed  smoothly  back  from  her 
forehead;  her  dress  was  simple  and  scrupulously  neat.  She 
was  gentle  and  kindly  in  her  judgments  of  others.  She  had 
been  trained  to  strict  honesty  and  truthfulness  in  her  child- 
hood. "My  mother,"  she  would  say,  talking  to  her  little 
grandson,  Pancho,  "always  told  us  children  that  if  we  found 
anything  in  the  street  to  take  it  into  the  house  in  front  of 
which  we  found  it  and  ask  if  it  belonged  there.  And  if  the 
house  was  closed  we  were  to  lay  it  in  the  window.  On  no 
account  were  we  to  keep  it  if  it  were  no  more  than  a  pin,  un- 
less the  owner  could  not  be  found." 

She  loved  to  tell  of  her  conversion.  The  history  of  one's 
conversion !  Is  it  not  the  new  song  which  the  believer  sings 
on  the  earth,  a  song  which  no  man  can  learn  save  him  to 
whom  the  Lord  teaches  it? 

Sitting  around  the  dining  table,  when  Refugio  had  removed 
the  plates,  and  the  napkins  on  which  they  sat,  she x told  it 
with  much  gesticulation  to  Teodoro  one  evening,  soon  after 
he  took  up  his  abode  in  the  house. 

"It  was  about  fourteen  years  ago,"  she  said,  "I  lived  in  a  lit- 
tle town  not  far  from  Zacatecas.  My  husband  was  away  from 
home,  working  in  the  mines,  and  I  and  my  daughter,  Refugio, 
lived  in  a  house  with  another  family.  They  were  very  kind 
people.  They  were  so  kind  they  made  me  uncomfortable; 
they  would  take  my  work  and  do  it  for  me  before  I  could  get 


304  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

at  it.  They  would  get  up  early  and  get  my  breakfast  and 
bring  it  to  me.  It  made  me  very  much  ashamed,  and  I  told 
them  so,  but  I  could  never  keep  them  from  doing  it.  So  at 
last  I  said:  'You  are  so  kind  and  good  that  I  can't  live  with 
you. '  So  I  went  to  the  house  of  a  near  neighbor  and  rented 
a  room  from  them.  Now  they  were  Protestants,  and  I  knew 
it,  but  I  didn't  care  for  that.  I  thought  I  would  let  them 
alone  and  they  could  let  me  alone. 

"They  did  let  me  alone;  they  didn't  say  a  word  to  me  about 
their  religion,  except  one  day  when  Dona  Luz  and  I  were  in 
the  kitchen  together  (for  we  used  the  same  kitchen),  she  said 
to  me:  'You  are  very  good,  Dona  Benigna,  and  I  like  you  very 
much,  but  I  think  we  can't  eat  together  any  longer.'  Then  I 
.said:  'Why?'  and  she  said:  'Because  we  like  to  ask  a  blessing 
at  the  table,  but  you  would  not  like  that;  so  we  will  have  to 
eat  separate.'  Then  I  said:  'But  why  can't  you  ask  a  blessing 
before  me?  I  don't  mind  that.  My  father  and  mother  always 
asked  a  blessing  both  before  and  after  the  meals. '  There  are 
very  few  Catholics  who  do  that,  but  my  parents  always  did. 
So  after  that  we  went  on  eating  together. 

''The  man,  he  was  the  preacher  of  the  Protestants  there, 
and  he  had  worship  in  the  house  where  they  lived.  But  I 
never  went  in;  I  only  heard  them  singing  as  I  sat  in  my  own 
room.  The  first  thing  that  touched  my  heart  was  a  hymn.  I 
don't  remember  what  hymn  it  was,  but  it  was  wonderful 
sweet  and  tender.  After  that  I  began  to  go  to  hear  the  ser- 
mon; then  I  began  to  ask  about  this  new  religion,  and  to  com- 
pare it  with  Romanism.  I  asked  about  it  all,  the  mass,  the 
perpetual  adoration,  the  priests,  purgatory,  and  everything; 
and  they  showed  me  that  none  of  those  things  were  taught  in 
the  Sacred  Scriptures. 

"They  offered  me  the  Bible  to  read,  but  I  wouldn't  take  it 
because  I  thought  I  couldn't  understand  it.  I  remembered 
when  I  saw  the  Bible  that  my  mother  had  had  a  Bible  when 
I  was  a  child,  and  that  she  and  my  father  used  to  read  it.  It 
was  a  large  old  book  bound  in  leather,  and  there  were  leather 
straps  that  buckled  around  it.  But  they  never  had  any  one 


*  'COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE  NEVER  DID  RUN  SMOOTH."    305 

to  explain  it  to  them,  and  I  knew  when  the  preacher  and  his 
wife  were  explaining  it  to  me  that  that  was  why  my  father 
and  mother  always  remained  Catholics — they  never  had  any 
one  to  explain  the  Bible  to  them. 

•  'Well,  there  was  something  in  my  heart  all  the  time  that 
wouldn't  let  me  rest  day  nor  night  till  I  believed.  O,  my 
conversion  was  wonderful!  It  was  miraculous!  The  Lord" 
just  laid  hold  on  me  with  his  right  hand  and  he  wouldn't  let 
me  go  till  I  had  submitted  to  him.  And  I  did  believe  on  him 
after  many  weeks. 

"My  husband  did  not  oppose  my  believing.  After  that  I 
took  a  long  journey  to  bring  home  my  daughter,  for  she  was 
at  my  father's  house.  When  I  reached  there  I  told  them 
what  had  happened  to  me,  and  they  were  all  very  much  trou- 
bled; and  my  mother  said  that  was  the  first  stain  of  shame 
that  had  fallen  on  any  of  her  people.  And  she  sai(f  that  was 
what  had  befallen  me,,  because  I  had  wandered  in  foreign 
lands,  instead  of  staying  there  in  the  ranch  where  generation 
after  generation  of  my  people  had  lived  and  died.  My  father 
came  in,  and  when  he  heard  about  it  he  upbraided  me  very 
much.  One  night  I  went  out  into  my  sister-in-law's  room, 
and  while  we  were  talking  my  mother  came  in  and  began  to 
talk  about  the  new  religion.  She  said  I  must  give  it  up;  and 
when  I  told  her  I  couldn't,  she  stood  up  and  stretched  out  her 
hand  toward  me  and  said:  'Unless  thou  wilt  give  it  up  thy 
mother's  curse  shall  rest  on  thee  all  the  days  of  thy  life.' 

"That  was  awful,  awful  to  me.  It  made  me  very  much 
afraid,  too,  for  I  thought  there  must  be  something  in  a 
mother's  curse.  I  took  Ref  ugio  and  went  home.  When  I  told 
Dona  Luz  about  my  mother's  curse  she  opened  the  Bible  and 
showed  me  where  it  is  written  that  we  must  love  the  Lord 
more  than  father  or  mother.  At  that  word  of  the  Lord  peace 
returned  to  my  heart  and  I  was  comforted." 

"What  became  of  your  husband?''  asked  Teodoro  gently, 
for  he  knew  he  might  be  touching  a  tender  chord.  "Did  he 
believe  also?" 

"No,"  she  replied  very  quietly,  "he  turned  to  the  evil  ways 

20 


306  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

of  the  world.  He  refused  to  be  married  by  the  civil  law;  so 
I  took  my  daughter  and  came  away." 

Honesty  and  sincerity  were  written  on  every  line  of  Teo- 
doro's  face.  The  people  loved  him,  for  he  was  lovable.  He 
believed  in  people;  he  believed  what  they  said,  and  he  attrib- 
uted to  them  good  motives.  His  faith  in  them  inspired  them 
to  be  what  he  thought  they  were. 

His  voice  in  preaching  was  clear  and  sonorous;  in  con- 
versation it  was  low  and  pleasant.  And  if  "a  low  voice  is 
an  excellent  thing  in  woman,"  how  much  more  excellent  is  it 
in  man!  How  it  suggests  refinement,  kindliness,  reserved 
strength! 

In  his  first  efforts  to  preach  he  blundered  and  stammered 
not  a  little.  But  the  thought  with  which  he  himself  after- 
wards encouraged  young  converts  to  speak  to  the  church  of 
what  God  had  done  for  them  helped  him  in  those  days:  it 
was  that  as  the  first  lisped  words  of  a  little  child  are  precious 
to  his  parent,  so  are  the  first  imperfect  utterances  of  a  child 
of  God  precious  to  his  Heavenly  Father. 

His  thoughts  were  forcibly  expressed  and  in  pure  and 
simple  language.  And  sometimes  the  thoughts  were  beau- 
tiful; I  remember  that  he  said  once  in  a  sermon  that  the 
words,  "Jesus  wept,"  were  a  poem.  Both  the  ignorant  and 
cultured  said:  "How  clearly  he  explains  the  gospel!"  And 
verily  he  did  explain  it  like  a  man  who  had  experienced  the 
power  and  sweetness  of  it. 

When  he  was  asked  if  he  did  not  sometimes  think  with 
regret  of  the  career  he  might  have  had  as  a  lawyer  or 
politician  he  looked  up  earnestly  and  replied  with  quiet 
emphasis:  "No,  the  calling  of  God  is  higher  and  more  de- 
sirable." "I  could  make  more  money,"  he  said  once,  "by 
devoting  myself  to  another  occupation;  but  I  should  not  be 
so  happy.  One  who  is  called  of  God  to  preach  the  gospel 
can  never  be  satisfied  when  he  is  doing  anything  else.  I 
have  often  thought,"  he  added,  "that  I  should  be  happier  if 
I  could  work  and  support  myself  while  I  preach,  but  it  is  not 
the  Scripture  plan,  and  therefore  I  can't  do  it." 


"COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE  NEVER  DID  RUN  SMOOTH."    307 

"I  have  great  faith  in  private  prayer,"  he  said  on  another 
occasion.  "How  many,  how  many  prayers  have  I  seen  an- 
swered!" 

His  patriotism  was  one  of  his  conspicuous  characteristics. 
"May  God  save  our  country  from  that!"  he  would  say  some- 
times, when  a  national  sin  or  calamity  was  mentioned. 

When  one  expressed  appreciation  of  his  sermon  he  would 
reply  quietly:  "May  it  be  for  the  glory  of  God." 

He  talked  comparatively  little,  and  he  seldom,  perhaps 
never,  jested,  though  his  conversation  was  not  infrequently 
brightened  by  a  quiet,  refined  humor.  He  would  become 
animated  in  the  discussion  of  a  great  question  or  of  a  book 
which  pleased  him.  For  the  rest,  he  was  humble  and  ear- 
nest, persevering  and  enthusiastic,  hopeful,  joyful,  and  lov- 
ing. Of  course,  his  work  was  blessed. 

Not  long  after  he  took  charge  of  the  church  he  received  a 
letter  from  Hernandez,  which  gave  him  some  joyful  news  and 
some  sad  news.  In  the  first  part  of  the  letter  he  told  him 
jubilantly  of  his  hopes  of  political  preferment,  and  of  his 
engagement  to  be  married  to  Tulis,  the  bright,  gentle  daugh- 
ter of  the  Director  of  the  college.  Then  the  letter  had  been 
interrupted,  and  two  days  afterward  he  continued  thus: 

"Could  not  finish  until  to-day.  I  have  to  tell  you  the  sad 
news  that  Ortega  has  lost  his  wife.-  I  attended  the  funeral 
yesterday.  Poor  fellow!  he  seems  quite  cut  up  by  it.  It  is 
a  heavy  blow. " 

When  Teodoro  had  read  that  he  clutched  the  letter  tightly 
and  walked  on  with  wide-open,  unseeing  eyes  till  he  was  out 
of  the  town  and  among  the  hills.  Some  of  the  boys  who  saw 
his  face  as  he  passed  them,  and  noticed  that  he  did  not  return 
their  salutations,  said  that  "the  master  looked  like  he  had 
seen  a  ghost."  He  never  knew  how  far  he  walked,  nor  where 
he  went,  nor  by  what  street  he  entered  the  town  when  he  re- 
turned; but  he  became  conscious  that  toward  the  close  of  the 
day  he  was  sitting  in  his  own  room,  with  his  arms  on  the 
table  and  his  head  on  his  arms. 

So  it  was  all  over  at  last.     He  had  tried  to  quit  thinking 


308  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

about  her  when  he  learned  that  she  was  to  be  married, — and 
married  to  his  enemy.  But  he  had  not  succeeded  in  forget- 
ting her;  he  was  continually  wondering  about  her,  continu- 
ally fearing  that  she  was  unhappy. 

And  now  she  was  dead.  Was  she  happy  now?  She  was  so 
gentle  and  good,  maybe  she  knew  the  truth  and  had  been 
saved  by  it.  There  were  people,  he  believed,  in  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  who  learned  the  truth  through  stray  Bibles 
and  were  saved  by  it,  though  the  circumstances  prevented 
their  ever  coming  out  of  that  Babylon.  O,  if  he  only  knew 
it!  if  he  only  knew  it! 

Then  there  came  a  strange  thrill  of  joy:  she  was  no  more 
Ortega's  now  than  his  own.  In  the  spirit  world  marriage 
ties  were  dissolved  and  the  petty  social  distinctions  of  earth 
were  swept  away,  and  kindred  of  soul  alone  was  considered. 
He  would  hereafter  every  day  of  his  life  visit  her  grave  and 
lay  flowers  on  it,  but  she  would  be  nearer  to  him  than  when 
she  was  living. 

As  the  months  passed  his  grief  became  milder,  like  that  of 
a  husband  who  buries  his  young  wife  out  of  his  sight,  and 
then  through  lonely  years  carries  in  his  heart  the  loved 
face— a  sanctifying  memory. 

So  the  weeks  grew  into  months  and  the  second  year  of  his 
life  in  the  little  northern  town  was  nearing  its  end. 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  309 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING. 

"Then  while  I  live,  and  till  I  die, 
And  all  my  life  I'll  fondly  try, 
With  all  my  soul,  to  bless  thee." 

|NE  evening  the  family  were  sitting  for  awhile,  as  usual, 
around  the  table  in  the  dining  room  after  the  dishes 
had  been '  removed.  Refugio  was  resting  her  hands,  tired 
from  sewing,  on  the  table.  Simon,  her  husband,  was  whit- 
tling a  toy  for  Pancho,  while  Dona  Benigna  was  trying  to 
persuade  that  young  gentleman  to  read  over  his  lesson  so  as 
to  know  it  well  for  the  morrow.  The  young  pastor  had 
taken  out  of  his  pocket  and  spread  out  before  him  the  Catholic 
daily,  El  Tiempo,  and  was  busy  with  a  long  article  on  '  'The 
Policy  of  the  Holy.  See  and  the  Catholic  Party  in  Mexico," 
when  he  caught  the  name  "Urbina'' — Simon  was  saying: 

'  'They  say  Don  Francisco  Urbina  recommended  her. " 

Teodoro  kept  his  eyes  on  the  paper,  but  he  listened.  Any- 
thing that  concerned  Mercedes  or  "her  people"  was  sadly 
interesting  to  him. 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised,"  said  Dofia  Benigna,  "if  she  was 
the  girl  who  taught  in  his  family  for  so  long.  What  was 
her  name?" 

"I  didn't  notice  the  name." 

"Was  it  Mercedes  Gonzales?" 

"Y-e-s,  I  believe  it  was.  Yes,  I  remember  now;  that  was 
the  name." 

*  'She  is  the  girl.  When  I  visited  Cipriana  Vega  in  Salta 
she  told  me  about  her.  Cipriana  is  her  godmother." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Teodoro.  "Excuse  me;  I  didn't  cateh 
the  first  part  of  your  conversation. " 

"It  was  nothing  of  importance.  They  told  me  to-day  in 
L.  that  Don  Francisco  Urbina  had  recommended  a  teacher  for 


310  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

their  government  school,  a  young  lady  from  Salta,  and  they 
had  employed  her  on  his  recommendation;  and  mother  says 
she  is  the  young  lady  who  was  governess  in  his  family  for 
some  time." 

"They  seemed  to  think  a  great  deal  of  her  at  first,"  said 
Dofia  Benigna.  "They  carried  her  to  Mexico  to  teach  the  chil- 
dren while  they  were  there.  But  I  have  heard  since — let  me 
see  who  told  me  that,  why  the  wife  of  Polycarp  Duran,  who 
came  from  Salta  to  see  her  daughter  when  she  had  the  fever, 
three  months  ago,  wasn't  it,  Refugio?  or  four  months?  I 
believe  it  was  three  months  ago — that  Don  Francisco's  wife 
dismissed  her  because  she  believed  the  gospel;  though  she 
did  say  they  took  her  back  again  afterwards." 

All  of  that  was  interesting  to  Teodoro  because  it  was  about 
a  "sister,"  and  because  she  was  some  one  who  lived  near  the 
Mercedes  he  loved.  It  was  pleasant  to  talk  about  it,  and 
they  would  never  suspect  his  feelings,  he  thought. 

"Sefior  Urbina  had  a  daughter  named  Mercedes,  I  believe?" 
and  he  stared  very  hard  at  the  paper  and  clinched  his  hand 
so  tightly  under  the  table  that  there  was  danger  that  the 
nails  would  cut  into  the  flesh. 

"No,  he  had  no  daughter  by  that  name.  No;  he  has  one 
daughter  in  a  convent  in  France;  her  name  is  Ursula.  An- 
other one  died  a  long  time  ago;  I  don't  know  what  her  name 
was;  it  may  have  been  Mercedes,  now.  Then  there  was  his 
grown  daughter  named  Magdalena;  she  married  somebody 
from  Mexico  and  died  nearly  a  year  ago,  and  the  little  ones 
are  named — 

"I  thought  the  one  who  married  Ortega  of  Mexico  was 
named  Mercedes — the  one  who  died,"  he  sat  erect,  staring 
with  stern  eyes  and  with  an  expression  that  seemed  to  say  he 
would  make  those  people  tell  him  the  truth  if  it  killed  them. 

'  'No,  her  name  was  Magdalena.  I  know,  for  when  I  lived 
in  Salta,  before  Refugio  was  married,  I  sewed  for  Dofia 
Flavia,  Don  Francisco's  wife,  and  Refugio  did  drawn  work  for 
her;  she  liked  it  very  much  and  always  paid  well  for  it— 

But  Teodoro  had  pushed  back  his  chair  and  risen  suddenly 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  311 

and  stalked  through  the  door  and  through  the  court  and  into 
the  street. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  him?"  exclaimed  Refugio, 
"I  never  saw  him  act  so  before." 

Teodoro  wanted  to  get  out  where  he  could  breathe.  Sud- 
den joy  has  killed  people.  There  were  two  clear  thoughts  hi 
his  mind  as  he  turned  his  face  toward  the  calm  stars:  "She 
was  living,  and  she  was  not  Ortega's  wife. " 

So  the  people  felt  in  the  days  of  our  Lord  on  earth  when 
their  dead  came  back  to  life.  So  the  sisters  of  Lazarus  felt; 
so  the  widow  of  Nain;  nay,  so  Isaac  would  have  felt  if  after 
he  had  learned  to  love  Rebecca  she  had  fallen  on  sleep  and 
then  awaked  to  life  and  come  back  to  him.  Teodoro's  soul 
sang  and  shouted:  "Thou  hast  given  her  back;  thou  hast 
given  me  back  my  dead!" 

It  was  long  before  another  thought  came  to  him,  but  at 
last  he  remembered  the  mention  of  the  governess  of  that 
name.  He  recalled  every  tune  he  had  seen  her;  he  remem- 
bered how  simply  she  was  always  dressed;  he  remembered 
that  no  one  had  ever  told  him  that  this  young  lady  was  a 
daughter  of  Senor  Urbina;  he  saw  how  it  all  was,  now;  but 
he  longed  to  be  assured  by  the  voice  of  another. 

Early  the  next  morning  as  Dona  Benigna  was  winding  in 
and  out  of  some  cane  lattice  work  some  stray  tendrils  of  the 
vine  that  she  was  training  on  it,  he  came  out  and  essayed  to 
help  her;  but  his  fingers,  usually  so  helpful,  were  unaccount- 
ably clumsy  this  morning. 

"Dona  Benigna,"  he  said,  "you  say  there  was  a  governess 
in  the  family  of  Senor  Urbina  when  they  were  in  Mexico,  and 
that  her  name  was  Mercedes  Gonzales?" 

"Yes,  so  they  told  me,"  she  replied,  looking  at  him  curi- 
ously. 

"And  you  say  she  has  believed  the  gospel?"    That  was  an- 
other assurance  that  he  wanted  to  hear  again. 
•   "Yes,  that  was  what  they  said." 

'  'Do  you  know  anything  else  about  her?" 

•'Well,  yes;  I  asked^ about  her  because  she  was  a  sister  hi 


312  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

Christ,  you  know.  Her  history  is  an  uncommon  one.  They 
said  she  was  the  daughter  of  one  of  Don  Francisco's  peons, 
but  a  German  lady  noticed  that  she  was  a  bright  girl,  and  she 
educated  her  and  afterwards  got  her  this  place  in  Don  Fran- 
cisco's family." 

"And  after  she  believed  the  gospel  they  turned  her  off 
and  then  took  her  back  again,"  he  said,  taking  up  the  nar- 
rative where  she  dropped  it,  and  looking  at  her  keenly  as  if 
he  were  a  detective. 

44 Yes,  but  I  suppose  they  want  to  get  rid  of  her  again,  as  he 
has  gotten  her  this  school.  Come,  Refugio  says  breakfast  is 
ready,"  and  at  the  table  they  talked  of  other  matters. 

"Why  might  I  not  win  her?"  he  said  to  himself,  tremulous 
with  the  thought.  "If  I  could  only  know  her,  there  might 
be  hope." 

As  he  went  on  thinking  of  this,  some  other  facts  were  sug- 
gested to  his  mind.  He  knew  the  people  of  the  town  where 
she  was  to  teach;  there  was  not  a  little  fanaticism  there 
among  the  Catholics;  he  knew  that  the  Board  of  Directors 
could  not  have  been  induced  even  through  Senor  Urbina's 
influence  to  employ  an  an ti- Catholic  teacher  if  they  had 
known  that  fact.  They  would  soon  find  it  out  and  dismiss 
her,  and  that  would  be  very  mortifying  and  painful  to  her. 
It  would  be  better  for  them  to  know  it  beforehand  and  not 
employ  her. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Protestants  of  his  own  town  had 
been  for  some  tune  trying  to  find  a  teacher.  The  salary 
would  not  be  more  than  half  as  large,  nor  the  position  by  any 
means  so  honorable  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  as  those  offered 
by  the  government  school  in  L.  But  would  it  not  be  better 
for  her  in  the  end  to  take  this  place?  If  his  own  feelings  had 
not  been  so  deeply  enlisted  he  would  not  have  hesitated  to 
write  to  the  young  lady  and  advise  her  to  resign  that  place 
and  accept  this  more  humble  one.  But  now  he  feared  to  do 
so.  How  did  he  know  what  she  would  think  about  it?  And 
if  she  should  come  to  suspect  that  he  had  any  personal  in- 
terest in  the  arrangement  it  might  be  fatal  to  his  hopes. 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  313 

And  besides  all  that,  there  were  compromising  Protestants 
who  could  adapt  themselves  very  well  to  the  Catholics  and 
get  along  with  them  admirably.  But  he  rejected  the  thought 
instantly  that  she  could  not  be  of  those.  If  it  could  only 
be  brought  about  somehow  without  his  having  anything  to  do 
with  it;  or  at  least  without  her  knowing  that  he  had  anything 
to  do  with  it! 

Now  he  had  been  intending  for  some  weeks  to  go  over  to 
L.  to  attend  to  a  little  business.  Why  might  he  not  go  now, 
and  it  might  be  arranged  ' 'somehow"?  At  any  rate  fair  and 
open  dealing  would  be  best  for  all  concerned.  He  resolved 
to  go;  but  because  of  his  own  interest  in  the  matter  his  sus- 
ceptible nature  suffered  as  if  he  were  about  to  do  a  mean 
action.  He  explained  it  to  Simon  and  the  rest  of  the  family, 
of  course  suppressing  all  mention  of  his  own  interests  and 
scruples,  and  they  fully  agreed  with  him.  But  he  felt  as  if 
he  had  confessed  a  crime. 

After  that  he  tried  to  persuade  Simon  to  go  and  manage  in 
an  off-hand  way  to  break  the  intelligence  to  the  Board;  but 
as  he  had  no  business  in  L.  he  could  not  see  why  he  should 
go  and  mix  himself  up  in  this  unpleasant  business;  why 
couldn't  Teodoro  do  it  himself;  he  had  heard  him  say  that  he 
had  to  go  to  L.  soon,  anyhow.  So  there  was  no  avoiding  it; 
he  went. 

He  attended  to  his  business;  he  went  around  to  the  book- 
store and  bought  a  book  or  two  that  he  needed;  he  called  at 
the  houses  of  some  of  the  humble  brethren  of  the  place  and 
talked  to  them  and  encouraged  them  in  their  poverty  and 
trials  with  promises  of  Scripture;  he  took  a  New  Testament 
from  his  pocket  and  read  to  one  woman  who  was  an  unbe- 
liever and  warned  her  solemnly  of  the  destruction  that  threat- 
ened her;  he  did  everything  that  could  be  expected  of  him 
rather  than  go  about  the  Palacio  Municipal,  where  he  knew 
he  should  find  one  or  more  of  the  Board.  But  at  last  it  could 
be  put  off  no  longer.  About  a  half  an  hour  before  train  time 
he  went  up  to  the  Palacio.  He  met  two  or  three  of  the  Board 
whom  he  knew.  He  talked  with  them  about  the  weather, 


314  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO 

• 

politics — anything  rather  than  school  matters,  till  he  had  to 
shake  hands  with  them,  put  himself  at  their  orders  and  rush 
off  to  the  train.  As  he  sank  back  in  the  seat  of  the  narrow 
gauge  car  he  could  not  have  told  whether  he  was  glad  or 
sorry  that  he  had  not  mentioned  it. 

He  sat  looking  out  of  the  window  at  the  mountains  as  they 
flew  past  him,  when  a  hearty  voice  at  his  side  exclaimed: 

"Ah,  Martinez,  how  do  you  do?     Glad  to  see  you." 

He  sprang  up  to  shake  hands  with  his  friend,  Don  Dionicio 
Torres,  not  a  member  of  the  School  Board,  indeed,  but  a 
man  who  was  interested  in  the  matter,  as  he  had  children  to 
educate.  They  sat  down  and  talked  awhile.  Presently  Don 
Dionicio  said: 

"This  question  of  schools  is  a  troublesome  one.  We  have 
just  employed  a  teacher  who  is  very  highly  recommended  by 
Don  Francisco  Urbina  of  Salta,  but  I  have  been  told  she  is  a 
Protestant.  That  wouldn't  matter  to  me,  you  know,"  he  said 
courteously,  remembering  to  whom  he  was  talking,  "but  it 
won't  suit  some  of  our  people,  the  mothers  of  the  young 
people,  for  instance,"  he  added  scornfully. 

"Who  is  the  teacher?"  asked  Teodoro,  not  knowing  what 
else  to  say. 

"She  is  a  young  lady  who  taught  for  some  time  in  the 
family  of  Sefior  -  Urbina;  Mercedes  Gonzales  is  her  name. 
Maybe  you  know  her,  or  know  of  her?  They  tell  me  you 
Protestants  are  great  people  to  hang  together." 

"I  have  heard  of  her,"  replied  Teodoro  almost  faintly. 

"Do  you  know  whether  she  really  is  a  Protestant?  It's 
better  for  our  Board  to  know  it  beforehand.  You  know  what 
their  fanatical  senoms  will  make  them  do  when  they  find  it  out. 
You  know  how  they  broke  up  that  fine  school  of  yours.  It's 
a  pity  women  can't  get  something  in  their  heads  besides 
religion!" 

"I  know — y-e-s,  that  she  is  not  a  Catholic." 

"Well,  you  will  forgive  me,  old  fellow,  if  I  tell  the  Board. 
It's  best,  you  know.  For  my  part,  as  they  say  she  is  a  good 
teacher,  I  wish  they  would  employ  her  anyhow." 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  315 

When  Teodoro  was  saying  good-bye,  as  the  train  ap- 
proached his  station,  he  said: 

'  'Will  you  please  drop  me  a  card  as  soon  as  the  Board  de- 
cides about  the  Sefiorita  Gonzales?  The  Protestants  here 
want  a  teacher  and  I  think  we  might  give  her  the  place." 

"I  will,  with  pleasure,"  replied  Don  Dionicio. 

So  the  matter  was  settled;  but  Teodoro  wished,  as  he  ex- 
plained it  to  them  at  supper  that  evening,  that  he  had  not  said 
anything  about  it  before. 

After  a  few  days  of  feverish  anxiety  lest  the  Board  should 
employ  her  anyhow — for  anything  seemed  possible  to  him 
that  would  separate  him  from  her,  even  to  the  Pope's  order- 
ing everybody  to  read  the  Bible,  if  that  would  have  that 
effect — he  received  a  card  saying  that  the  Board  had  dis- 
pensed with  the  Sefiorita  Gonzales'  services.  Then  he  in- 
duced a  member  of  his  congregation  to  write  to  her,  request- 
ing her  to  teach  their  little  school.  He  would  not  write  him- 
self, for  delicacy  forbade  his  making  her  feel  that  she  was 
under  obligations  to  him  for  the  slightest  thing. 

There  were  more  feverish  days  of  waiting,  then  came  her 
letter,  saying  she  would  come  gladly. 

Then  Teodoro  astonished  the  family  by  telling  them  he 
would  give  up  his  room  to  Mercedes  and  find  another  place  to 
board.  No,  they  must  not  protest;  it  would  be  a  great  favor 
to  him,  and  it  was  the  most  suitable  place  in  town  *or  her. 
As  she  was  to  come  in  three  or  four  days  he  moved  imme- 
diately. 

But  he  did  not  move  everything.  He  selected  some  of  his 
favorite  books  and  placed  them  on  the  small  shelves  in  the 
corner.  He  even  ventured  to  suggest  some  improvement  in 
the  room.  One  of  the  doors  dragged  badly  on  the  tiles  of  the 
floor;  it  could  be  made  shorter  so  it  would  close  easily. 
There  was  no  window;  he  had  always  been  satisfied  with  the 
light  from  the  narrow  iron-barred  transom  over  the  door,  but 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  have  some  panes  of  glass  put 
into  the  tops  of  the  folding  doors.  He  would  pay  for  it  if 
Simon  would  permit  it.  So  it  was  done.  He  objected  that 


316  MERCEDES,   A  STORY  OP  MEXICO. 

the  table  was  too  tall  for  a  young  lady  to  write  on;  his 
table,  now,  would  suit  her  much  better.  If  Refugio  would 
let  him  exchange  he  would  leave  it  here  and  take  this  one  to 
his  room.  So  that  also  was  done.  But  he  capped  the  climax 
when  he  sent  up  a  little  rocking  chair. 

Dona  Benigna  only  expressed  the  astonishment  and  curi- 
osity of  the  whole  family  when  on  the  afternoon  that  Mer- 
cedes was  to  arrive,  as  he  stood  in  the  door  of  the  room,  after 
having  inspected  everything,  and  fastidiously  rearranged 
some  books  and  a  pair  of  vases  with  some  flowers  that 
Refugio  had  put  in  there: 

*  'Brother,  is  it  only  the  friendship  of  friends  that  is  be- 
tween you?" 

"I,"  replied  Teodoro,  with  slightly  heightened  color,  "I 
don't  know  the  young  lady.  I  have  only  seen  her,  but  she  is 
a  sister^  in  Christ,  and  we  ought  to  try  to  make  everything 
comfortable  and  pleasant  for  her. "  And  the  good  woman  had 
to  be  satisfied  with  that;  and  she  knew  he  was  good  enough 
and  had  brotherly  love  enough  in  his  heart  to  do  all  that  for 
a  woman  who  was  twice  as  old  as  himself.  But  he  strictly 
charged  each  and  all  of  them  not  on  any  account  to  let  the. 
young  lady  know  that  he  had  had  anything  to  do  with  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  room. 

When  the  hour  came  for  the  arrival  of  the  train  he  walked 
down  to  the  station  with  Dofia  Benigna  and  Pancho.  But  he 
was  not  to  go  back  with  them;  he  could  not  meet  her  that 
night;  he  only  wanted  to  see  her. 

He  stood  near  a  lamp  post  when  the  train  thundered  up 
and  stopped.  He  saw  her  as  she  descended;  he  recognized 
the  slender  figure  in  the  dark  dress,  with  the  black  shawl 
drawn  over  her  head  and  thrown  over  her  left  shoulder.  He 
heard  her  low,  musical  voice  as  she  answered  Dofia  Benigna's 
question:  "Yes,  Sefiora,  I  am  Mercedes  Gonzales."  His 
head  grew  so  hot  that  he.  took  off  his  hat  to  let  the  night  air 
cool  it. 

As  he  stood  thus  they  passed  him,  and  Mercedes,  happen- 
ing to  glance  up,  saw  his  face  clearly  in  the  light  of  the 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  317 

lamp.  Their  eyes  met.  She  started  violently,  then  hurried 
on.  It  was  the  very  face,  the  very  one,  that  she  had  thought 
of  so  frequently,  and  with  a  strange  curiosity  and  tenderness 
for  nearly  two  years.  She  had  thought  of  it  especially  in 
these  last  three  weeks  as  the  face  of  some  one  who  for  some 
reason  thought  kindly  of  her.  He  wanted  her  sympathy! 
Ah,  how  she  needed  his,  or  some  one's !  She  wondered  vaguely 
if  he  were  a  believer,  for  that  was  always  her  first  thought 
about  one  in  whom  she  was  interested. 

When  they  reached  the  house  she  sat  down  a  few  minutes 
in  the  parlor  with  Dona  Benigna,  till  Refugio  should  light 
the  lamp  in  her  own  room.  It  was  a  long,  large  room.  The 
tile  floor  was  scrupulously  clean.  In  each  of  the  two  corners 
near  the  door  were  corner  tables.  On  one  of  them  was  a 
large  plaster  of  Paris  cat  with  the  most  phenominal  spots 
imaginable;  on  the  other  was  a  box  covered  with  shells  and 
a  few  other  ornaments  which  Simon  had  probably  given  to 
Refugio  in  their  courting  days.  In  another  corner  was  a 
white  plaster  of  Paris  pedestal  on  which  sat  a  gilded  bust  of 
Juarez,  and  in  the  other  corner  was  a  corresponding  pedestal 
with  a  bust  of  Hidalgo.  On  one  side  of  the  room  was  a  table 
over  which  hung  a  looking  glass  in  a  wooden  frame.  Around 
three  sides  of  the  room,  standing  against  the  walls  and  as 
near  together  as  possible,  were  chairs  with  rush  bottoms. 
In  an  unbroken  line  they  stood  except  where  they  were 
obliged  to  skip  the  before -mentioned  table  and  pedestals. 
Subsequent  observation  revealed  the  fact  to  Mercedes  that 
there  were  thirty-six  of  these  chairs.  Chairs,  tables  and 
frames  were  shining  with  paint.  On  the  walls  were  a  few 
cheap  and  highly  colored  pictures.  This  parlor  was  Ref  ugio's 
especial  delight. 

Mercedes  was  very  much  surprised  at  her  own  room.  She 
was  much  touched,  too,  when  Dofia  Benigna  said:  "We  tried 
to  make  it  pleasant  for  you  because  you  are  a  sister." 

After  she  had  eaten  her  supper  and  gone  back  to  her  room 
for  the  night  she  went  around  it,  looking  at  everything. 
She  lingered  longest,  of  course,  before  the  book  shelves. 


318  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

taking  down  the  books  and  looking  at  them,  Who  in  that 
house  read  those  books,  she  wondered.  There  were  some  of 
Castelar's  and  Altamirano's;  there  was  a  translation  of 
Shakespeare,  and  some  translations  from  French,  such  as 
"Paul  and  Virginia"  and  "Picciola."  There  was  no  name  in 
any  of  the  books,  but  from  some  of  them  the  name  had  been 
carefully  erased. 

The  next  day  Teodoro  was  invited  to  dine  with  them.  His 
introduction  to  Mercedes  was  the  most  commonplace  thing  in 
the  world.  When  he  came  into  the  dining  room  she  was 
standing  there,  in  a  simple,  light,  summer  dress,  her  glossy, 
black  hair  parted  and  smoothly  combed  back  as  she  always 
wore  it.  "Brother,"  said  Dona  Benigna,  "this  is  the  teacher. 
Mercedes,  this  is  our  minister,  the  pastor  of  the  church." 

He  took  her  hand  for  a  moment,  saying,  as  he  looked  into 
her  eyes: 

"Teodoro  Martinez,  at  your  orders." 

"Thank  you,''  she  replied,  simply. 

Neither  of  them  could  talk  very  much  during  this  first 
meeting,  and  Simon  and  Ref  ugio  were  never  great  talkers,  so 
that  Dona  Benigna  found  herself  with  the  burden  of  conver- 
sation on  her  shoulders.  I  don't  know  how  she  came  to 
speak  of  banditti,  but  presently  she  was  saying,  in  reply  to  a 
question  of  Teodoro's,  for  he  had  felt  that  he  must  say  some- 
thing: 

"O,  yes,  Don  Sotero  was  a  noted  bandit.  Everybody  knew 
about  him.  He  was  not  just  anybody,  either;  he  belonged  • 
to  a  rich  and  highly  respectable  family.  He  was  the  only  one 
of  them  that  ever  went  wrong.  He  was  rich  himself;  why 
he  had  houses  and  lands  of  his  own.  He  was  a  bandit  just 
because  he  liked  the  danger  and  adventure  of  it.  He  was  a 
very  handsome  young  man,  they  said.  He  was  captain  of  the 
band.  They  had  their  headquarters  in .  the  ranch  of  R. 
By  seven  o'clock  all  the  honest  people  had  to  be  in  their 
houses,  with  the  doors  shut,  and  the  ranch  was  given  up  to 
the  banditti,  and  they  drank  and  danced  and  fought  and  killed 
till  morning.  They  would  go  off  on  robbing  expeditions  and 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.        .  319 

come  back  with  great  loads  of  plunder,  and  nobody  dared  say 
a  word.  But  at  last  the  President  sent  General  M. ,  with  a 
band  of  soldiers  well  armed,  and  they  surrounded  the  ranch 
and  captured  them  all  and  killed  them — all  but  Don  Sotero; 
he'was  not  there." 

"What  became  of  Don  Sotero?"  asked  Mercedes. 

"They  caught  him  afterwards;  he  was  betrayed  by  a  woman 
who  knew  where  he  was,  and  they  hanged  him  in  the  door. 
But  they  said  it  was  awful  hard  to  kill  some  of  those  bandits. " 

Teodoro  observed  Mercedes  grasp  her  knife  more  closely, 
and  he  wished  he  could  change  the  subject  of  conversation, 
but  he  was  helpless  just  because  of  her  presence. 

"Another  awful  murder,  worse  than  that  one,  happened  in 
this  State  a  few  years  ago,"  went  on  the  worthy  matron,  still 
moved  by  the  hospitable  desire  to  entertain  her  guests. 
"Why  the  bandits  cut  off  the  head  of  one  man  and  cut  out  the 
tongue  of  another.  But  I  have  forgotten  the  particulars." 

Then,  as  she  paused,  Teodoro  aroused  himself  at  last  and 
said: 

'  'Well,  Senorita,  the  school  will  begin  Monday,  will  it?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.    Just  as  the  patrons  please,  of  course." 

"I  think  you  will  have  twenty  pupils  at  least.  The  school- 
room is  not  so  nice  as  you  have  been  accustomed  to,  I  know; 
but  we  have  made  it  as  neat  and  comfortable  as  we  could. " 

"I  haye  no  doubt  I  shall  like  it.  I  am  very  grateful  to 
you  all." 

Then  Simon  thought  of  something  to  say: 

"I  expect  after  all  you'll  like  it  better  than  teaching  in  L. 
I  was  afraid  at  first  when  Teodoro  broke  that  up  and  had  you 
come  here  that  you  wouldn't  be  pleased  with  the  change; 
specially  as  the  salary  is  not  more  than  half  as  large." 

Poor  Teodoro !  If  all  the  poles  and  canes  and  earth  of  the 
roof  had  fallen  on  his  head  it  would  not  have  been  much  more 
overwhelming.  He  could  say  nothing,  and  nobody  found 
anything  to  say  for,  it  seemed,  a  very  long  time.  Mercedes 
was  too  much  surprised  and  confused  by  the  new  thought,  and 
Dona  Benigna  was  too  much  chagrined  to  make  any  reply. 


320  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Refugio  thought  it  must  have  been  the  right  thing  to  say 
since  Simon  had  said  it.  After  some  moments  Dona  Beaigna 
remarked  to  Mercedes: 

"The  brother  thought  that  you  would  prefer  to  be  among 
believers  here,  rather  than  with  the  Catholics.  For  they  are 
said  to  be  quite  fanatical  in  L.  They  wouldn't  have  borne 
with  a  believer  long. " 

''I  have  no  doubt,''  said  Mercedes  pleasantly,  anxious  to 
relieve  Teodoro,  "that  it  will  be  much  more  pleasant  here." 

Then  they  went  on  talking  of  other  matters  till  the  dinner 
was  over;  and  very  soon  after  dinner  Teodoro  excused  him- 
self on  the  plea  that  he  had  some  writing  to  do. 

Mercedes  escaped  to  her  own  room  to  study  over  this  new 
phase  of  the  subject.  He  had  had  her  come  here.  Had  it 
any  connection  with  his  strange  interest  in  her  in  Mexico? 
Then  Refugio  had  let  slip  the  information  that  he  had  boarded 
with  them  "until — well,  until  a  few  days  ago,  in  fact,"  and 
then  the  good  little  woman  had  looked  frightened  as  if  she 
had  told  something  she  ought  not  to  have  mentioned. 

Was  that  a  clew  to  the  mystery  of  this  room,  to  the  taste 
with  which  the  things  were  arranged,  to  the  books,  especially? 
It  was  kind  and  thoughtful  of  him.  not  to  let  her  go  to  L. 
From  that  day  she  began  to  love  him. 

But  Teodoro  wondered  all  the  afternoon  if  he  should  ever 
feel  like  smiling  again. 

The  next  Monday  the  school  opened.  It  was  in  a  small  room 
on  the  principal  street.  In  the  center  of  the  room  sat  a  long 
and  wide  table,  on  either  side  of  which  was  a  bench.  They 
were  the  only  seats  in  the  room,  except  the  chair  for  the 
teacher.  Here  on  these  high  benches  sat  the  children  swing- 
ing their  feet,  spelling  books  and  reading  books  in  hand, 
studying  aloud,  vying  with  each  other  in  the  exercise  of  their 
lungs,  for  such  is  the  custom  of  the  country.  They  were  not 
barefooted  children;  they  always  wore  shoes,  though  they 
were  frequently  without  stockings.  Every  morning  the 
teacher  read  a  chapter  of  the  Bible  and  they  sang  a  hymn, 
'  'What  a  friend  we  have  in  Jesus, "  or  '  'How  firm  a  foundation, " 
or  "Little  children  who  love  their  Redeemer, "or  some  other. 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  321 

It  was  marvelous  how  often  in  those  days  Teodoro's  visiting 
and  other  duties  took  him  by  that  noisy  little  schoolroom. 
Sometimes,  when  Mercedes  lingered,  after  all  the  childrens 
were  gone  but  Pancho  to  finish  the  work  of  the  day  or  pre- 
pare some  exercises  for  the  morrow,  Teodoro  would  drop  in 
and  ask  some  questions  about  the  school  and  hope  she  was 
enjoying  the  work.  More  than  once  when  she  looked  up 
suddenly  and  saw  him  standing  in  the  door  her  face  had 
brightened  suddenly  with  gratitude  or  something  sweeter. 
But  Teodoro  was  afraid  to  believe  what  his  eyes  saw. 

But  those  calls  at  the  schoolroom  were  necessarily  infre- 
quent and  quite  short.  He  often  called  at  Simon's  house  and 
talked  with  her  in  Dona  Benigna's  presence.  They  found 
that  their  tastes  about  other  things  as  well  as  religion  were 
similar.  They  would  have  been  happy  in  those  days  if  each 
could  have  been  certain — quite  certain — that  he  was  loved  by 
the  other.  But  people  in  that  state  of  mind  are  very  liable 
to  misunderstand  each  other.  Every  now  and  then  there  was 
a  misunderstanding  which  was  painful  enough  for  both  while 
it  lasted,  and  let  them  know  the  joy  of  reconciliation  when  a 
glance,  a  word,  a  smile  and  bow,  or  something  else  of  like 
dimensions  bridged  over  the  fearful  chasm. 

One  afternoon,  after  Mercedes  had  been  with  them  about  two 
months,  there  was  a  small  social  gathering  at  Simon's  house. 
It  happened  that  the  young  Methodist  preacher  was  moved 
that  day  to  talk  a  good  deal  to  Mercedes.  This  was  very  dis- 
tressing to  Teodoro,  and  he  tried  in  vain,  by  passing  fruit  to 
Mercedes,  and  by  other  little  courtesies,  to  attract  her  atten- 
tion and  induce  her  to  turn  from  the  Methodist  brother  and 
devote  herself  to  him.  Mercedes  understood  his  motives, 
but  she  didn't  know  very  well  how  to  get  rid  of  her  compan- 
ion. Presently  Teodoro  was  driven  by  despair  and  resent- 
ment to  sit  down  by  the  silver-tongued  Gaudencia  and  engage 
in  conversation  with  her,  not  deigning  again  to  glance  toward 
Mercedes.  After  that  she,  hurt  by  his  neglect,  took  pains  to 
show  him  that  she  liked  Gaudencia  as  well  as  any  of  the 
other  girls,  or  better.  But  she  cried  nearly  all  night  for  fear 
21 


322  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Teodoro  liked  Gaudencia  better  than  he  liked  her.     That 
trouble  between  them  lasted  for  a  week. 

It  was  a  month  after  this  that  Teodoro  planned  an  excur- 
sion to  a  cave  that  was  about  five  miles  from  the  town. 
About  two  dozen  persons  went  in  hacks..  I  am  sorry  to  have 
to  report  that  Teodoro  did  not  invite  the  Methodist  preacher; 
not  that  that  gentleman  was  aggrieved  by  the  neglect,  or 
even  thought  of  it;  but  because  of  the  lack  of  willingness  to 
do  so  on  Teodoro' s  part.  But  he  was  punished,  as  he  feltr 
for  that,  and  many  other  shortcomings. 

As  he  sat  in  the  hack  with  Dona  Benigna,  Mercedes,  Gau- 
dencia, and  two  or  three  children,  something  brought  up  the 
subject  of  Mercedes'  not  having  gone  to  L.,  and  Teodoro  re- 
ceived a  more  severe  blow  than  the  one  that  Simon  had  given 
him  at  first.  It  had  always  been  a  sore  subject  for  him. 
He  could  reason  about  it  and  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  of 
course,  Mercedes  would  rather  be  where  she  was,  with  be- 
lievers, than  in  L.,  even  if  she  could  have  stayed  there;  but 
she  had  never  said  so  to  him,  and  her  failure  to  do  so  hurt 
him. 

Mercedes  had  wanted  a  hundred  times  to  say  it,  but  she 
felt  that  saying  that  would  be  the  same  thing  under  the  cir- 
cumstances as  telling  him  that  she  was  glad  to  be  near  him; 
and,  of  course,  she  could  not  do  that. 

When  they  drew  up  in  the  midst  of  the  wild,  picturesque 
scenery  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  left  the  hacks  and  began 
the  steep  ascent  to  the  dark  hole,  the  mouth  of  the  cave  that 
gaped  far  up  toward  the  summit,  Teodoro  assisted  Dona 
Benigna,  as  it  was  his  duty  to  do. 

They  reached  the  opening,  and  sat  down  for  awjiile  on  the 
stones  to  rest;  then  they  entered  and  began  the  exploration 
of  the  chambers. 

Not  far  from  the  entrance,  the  first  time  they  had  to  descend 
from  one  chamber  to  another,  Teodoro  helped  down  all  the 
women,  and  Mercedes  was  the  last  one.  She  stood  above  him 
and  looked  down  at  him;  their  eyes  met  and  their  hands 
touched.  After  that  he  thought  no  more  of  Dofia  Benigna, 
nor  of  the  other  women,  nor  of  the  Methodist  preacher. 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  323 

On  and  on  they  went,  up  and  down  the  steep  places,  and 
from  chamber  to  chamber.  Sometimes,  when  the  others 
were  not  near  they  went  hand  in  hand;  sometimes  he  drew 
her  hand  into  his  arm,  holding  it  closely.  They  spoke  few 
words;  they  only  looked  at  each  other  by  the  light  of  their 
flickering  candles.  They  noticed  neither  stalactite  nor  stalag- 
mite; they  stood  in  the  room  where  the  white  stone  woman 
clasps  the  child  in  her  arms,  and  the  light  shines  down  on  her 
through  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  they  saw  nothing  of  it, 
cared  nothing  about  it. 

At  last  they  reached  before  the  others  the  Chamber  of 
Glory.  It  was  here  that  a  thought  grew  too  strong  for 
Teodoro,  and  he  stood  up  very  straight,  with  his  face  turned 
a  little  away  from  her,  and  said  in  a  low  tone,  through  whicb 
she  heard  the  cry  of  pain : 

"O,  Mercedes,  you  know  how  I  love  you;  won't  you  saj 
you  forgive  me?" 

Then  her  candle  slipped  from  her  hand  and  she  clasped  it 
over  his  as  she  held  her  other  hand  closely  on  his  arm,  and 
throwing  back  her  head  she  looked  up  into  his  face  and  ex- 
claimed: 

"No,  Teodoro,  I  won't  say  I  forgive  you.  How  could  I  use 
such  a  word  to  you;  I  love  you." 

He  pressed  one  kiss  on  her  lips,  and  then  they  heard  the 
others  coming,  and,  laughing  softly;  they  caught  up  her  can- 
dle and  lighted  it. 

So  they  went  on  through  the  cave  and  returned  to  the 
mouth  of  it,  and  sat  down  just  inside  and  rested,  and  ate  sup- 
per. Then  down  the  mountain  and  to  the  town.  And  when 
Teodoro  lifted  Mercedes  from  the  hack  at  Simon's  door  Dofia 
Benigna  heard  him  whisper,  "Mi  alma,"  and  she  knew  the 
whole  story. 

They  were  married  a  few  weeks  later.  Mercedes  wore  a 
simple  white  dress,  which  Teodoro  had  bought,  and  in  her 
black  hair  some  white  flowers,  which  he  had  selected.  Every- 
one of  the  thirty-six  chairs  in  Simon's  parlor  was  occupied 
that  evening,  and  there  were  some  who  stood  up,  for  the 


324  MERCEDES,  A  STORY  OF  MEXICO. 

Methodist  brethren  and  sisters  were  there,  as  well  as  Teo- 
doro's  own  people.  After  the  civil  judge  had  married  them 
the  Methodist  preacher — who,  by  the  way,  had  never  had  any 
idea  of  Teodoro's  jealousy  of  himself,  and  who  could  have 
assured  him,  if  he  had  been  interviewed,  that  he  liked  Gau- 
dencia  better  than  Mercedes — prayed  that  their  union  might 
be  a  blessing  to  themselves  and  to  the  world  that  lay  in  the 
darkness  of  error  around  them. 

During  the  evening  Teodoro  and  the  Methodist  preacher 
were  observed  to  cordially  embrace  each  other.  The  hos- 
pitable Simon  and  Refugio  served  a  merienda  of  chocolate  and 
cake;  and  during  the  merienda  they  consulted  together  about 
another  teacher  for  the  school. 

They  went  to  housekeeping  soon.  It  was  here  that  Don 
Francisco  found  them  one  day,  having  stopped  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  inquired  and  found  out  the  house.  He  sat  and 
talked  with  them  an  hour  or  two;  and  Mercedes  observed, 
with  an  aching  heart,  that  he  looked  older  and  more  care- 
worn. As  he  told  them  good-bye  he  stood,  with  his  hand  on 
her  shoulder,  and  said  to  Teodoro,  in  his  pleasant,  dignified 
way,  that  he  was  glad  so  worthy  a  young  man  had  won  Mer- 
cedes, for  he  should  always  have  something  of  the  interest 
of  a  father  in  her.  And  she,  looking  up  into  his  face,  saw, 
as  he  turned  away  his  head,  that  it  was  convulsed  with  feel- 
ing, and  she  ^:new  that  he  wras  thinking  of  Magdalena.  Then 
they  said  adios — meaning  it — and  they  watched  him  as  he 
went  down  the  street  in  the  golden  sunlight.  In  a  few 
days  there  came  to  Mercedes,  from  Don  Francisco,  a  beauti- 
ful writing  desk;  "a  wedding  present,"  he  said  it  was  in  the 
note  which  he  wrote  about  it,  "though  it  came  late."  . 

They  had  been  married  about  three  months  when  one  after- 
noon Teodoro,  walking  with  a  joyful  step  along  the  street, 
came  to  the  door  of  a  humble  house.  Some  children,  seeing 
him  before  the  door,  bounded  toward  him,  and  seizing  his 
hands  led  him  through  the  court  to  the  door  of  a  room  where 
sat  three  or  four  women,  and  Mercedes  in  the  midst  of  them 
with  an  open  New  Testament  in  her  hand.  She  had  just  read 


THE  END  WHICH  WAS  THE  BEGINNING.  325 

and  explained  to  them  how  that  a  great  king  made  a  marriage 
feast  for  his  son  and  sent  forth  and  called  them  that  were 
bidden;  and  they  would  not  come;  and  again  he  sent  and 
called,  and  they  would  not  come;  and  then  he  sent  into  the 
highways  and  called  others  and  they  came;  and  when  the 
king  came  in  to  see  the  guests  he  found  one  who  had  not  on 
a  wedding  garment;  and  he,  having  nothing  to  respond,  was 
bound  hand  and  foot  and  cast  into  outer  darkness. 

Teodoro  entered  and  shook  hands  with  them  all,  and  sat 
down;  and  taking  the  book  from  Mercedes'  hand  he  added  a 
few  words  of  exortation;  then  he  said:  "Let  us  have  a  word 
of  prayer."  and  they  all  knelt  down  and  followed  him  in 
prayer.  When  they  had  risen  up  he  stood  a  few  minutes  by 
Mercedes'  side  talking;  then,  dropping  his  hand  gently  on 
her  shoulder,  he  said,  looking  down  at  her: 

"Come,  Mercedes,  it  is  time  to  go  home.  We  must  have 
supper  early,  you  know;  it  is  prayer  meeting  night." 

"Yes,  I  was  Just  thinking  of  that,"  she  replied  as  she 
looked  up  at  him  with  a  bright  face;  then,  tossing  her  black 
shawl  over  her  shoulder,  she  arose.  They  shook  hands  with 
the  women  and  went  out  and  down  the  street,  side  by  side, 
toward  their  home. 


THE    END. 


H" 


863 

Hl6m   Hale,  Sarah 
MERCEDES, 


863 
Hl6m 


